


Better Angels

by wyles77



Series: Better Angels [1]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Adventure, F/F, Romance, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-11 18:53:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 54
Words: 132,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7066036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyles77/pseuds/wyles77
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Liara recovers from injuries received in the battle for Earth, she discovers that her final joining with Shepard has bestowed some unintended consequences. Working with the crew to get the Normandy back into space, she struggles to come to terms with the idea that she has lost the Commander for a second and final time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Awakenings

**Author's Note:**

> Standard disclaimers apply: I don't own Mass Effect or any of its characters, and this has been a purely-for-fun exercise in developing my writing skills.

I wake up screaming.

 

   For a few eternal seconds, my world is airless, a vacuum echoing with the hammer-strokes of my heart in my ears. I cannot see, I cannot think. Gasping, I manage to suck down a breath, two, three. Lucidity returns; the world slowly bleeds into focus. Sight first, the dim silhouettes of my surroundings tinted blue by the glow of the backlit aquarium on the wall. Dark metal walls around me, and above me, if I crane my neck, a viewport ordinarily possessed of a stunning view of the galaxy.  Now, the sky above is dull grey, clouds in a planetary atmosphere obscuring the stars.

   Feeling returns next; heat, sweat, the close clinging of damp bed sheets wrapped around me in a wrestlers’ hold.  Whatever I was dreaming of was not pleasant.  And pain. My head aches, and a sympathetic pulse throbs in my shattered leg, despite medication and medi-gel.  Hearing makes an entrance as I become aware of the oppressive stillness.  It’s too quiet, no hum of engines in the background, no music, no soundtrack of computer beeps and squeaks to signify either my eagle’s-eye view of the galaxy’s deepest secrets, or Shepard working too late, working too hard.

   I disentangle myself from my bedding, wincing as the movement sends a shock of agony through my leg, flip the pillows and try to settle.  I close my eyes, shutting out the painfully familiar room.  I’m lucky just to need rest and recovery, so Dr. Chakwas tells me; I’m lucky to be alive after Harbinger threw a Mako at me; I’m lucky to have survived the Reaper War.

   I don’t feel lucky. 

   I feel sick, I feel impossibly tired, I feel sore.  Most of all, I feel alone.

   “You’re not alone.”

Shepard’s voice murmurs in my aural cavity, and I smile as the ends of her short, bobbed hair tickle my cheek.  She is beside me, her arm wrapping around me to hold me close, her chin resting comfortably in the hollow of my neck.  “I promised I’d never leave you.  Thank you for making sure I didn’t have to break that promise.” A kiss brushes my neck just under my jawline.

   “Why thank me?  I didn’t do anything.”

   “Sure you did, but I’m not arguing with you about it right now.  You need to sleep, sweetheart.”

   “I tried.  It did not work out all that well.”

   Warm fingers stroke the back of my neck, intimate and impossibly comforting.  “Try again.  I’m here, I’ve got you.”

   Wrapped in her safe embrace, sleep comes easily. As my consciousness slips away, there’s the faintest whisper. “I love you, Liara.”

 

** **

 

I wake up screaming.

Or at least, trying to.  My throat is dry, caked with dust and clogged with blood, and my cry sputters into a gut-wrenching cough to clear the blockage.  I suck in a lungful of air, and the movement releases a tidal wave of agony through me.  Dimly, a tiny voice tells me I’m in bad shape, and that moving is a really fucking stupid idea. Trying to keep my breaths shallow, I crack open an eyelid.  It’s dark, pitch dark, I can’t see a thing.  Or maybe I’m blind.

_Oh, fuck._

   I panic, and I try to lift my hand to my face, but something heavy is stopping me from doing so, and the attempt produces another white wall of pain.  I pant some more, dragging oxygen into my brain, and I realise I can’t feel my arms or legs.  _Not good_ , my tiny advisor whispers.

_No shit_ , I retort, but my heart isn’t in it.  I want to go back to sleep.

   “Shepard, listen to me. You have to try to stay awake.”

   I know that voice.  “L-liara?”

   “I’m here, Shepard.”

   “I can’t... I c-can’t see you.”

   “I know.  It is very dark in here.  Shh, it’s alright. I won’t leave you, I promise, but you must stay awake.”

   I’m so tired.  Black is lapping at the edges of my vision.  “I don’t know if I can, Li.”

   “You can.  You promised me that you would always come back.  Don’t you dare break your word.”  Her fingers dig painfully into my cheeks, cool and strong.  “Stay awake!”

   “Keep talking, please, Liara.  Help me.  It’s so hard to...to think.”

   “Tell me why you love me.”

   “What?”

   “Tell me why you love me.”

   “Y-you know why.”

   “I do.”  Liara’s mouth brushes mine in a soft kiss.  “I know everything you know.  But you need something to fight for.  So tell me again.”

   I do close my eyes now, but not to surrender.  To remember her.  “You’re so beautiful,” I whisper. “You’re kind, compassionate, selfless, gentle.”

   “I’m blushing.”

   “Funny.  You understand me.  You’re strong enough to carry me, forgive me my flaws.”

   “I don’t see many of those in you.”

   “Rose-tinted glasses,” I murmur.

   “What?  Oh, wait, I know what that means.”  I can hear the smile in her voice.  “Funny, your mother says that about you.”

   I don’t recall ever telling her that, but I don’t recall much at the moment.  I try to reach for her, and fresh agony erupts.  The last thing I hear as blackness rolls over me is her voice.  “I love you, Rachel. Stay with me."


	2. Bereft, She Thinks She Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liara

When I awake again to Shepard’s cabin, our Chief Surgeon is standing over me, one cool, professional hand resting on my brow.  “I’m sorry, Liara, I didn’t mean to wake you.”  She studies her omni-tool briefly for a moment, then closes it down.  “Good.  Your leg is coming along nicely, as are the rest of your scrapes and bruises.” She sits down on the bed, helping me to sit and propping me up with the pillows.  “How are you feeling?”

   I don’t really want to discuss my feelings with anyone, but Karin Chakwas has earned the right to ask.  “I don’t know, really,” I dissemble, playing for time.

   “Denial isn’t healthy, Liara, even at this early stage,” Chakwas chides, but her voice is that of a worried mother rather than a medical professional.

   “It is not denial, Karin.  I really do not know.  It is not like... last time.”  Last time.  _Sitting in the escape pod, eyes glued to the search and rescue telemetry readout, straining with every fibre of my being to see, to know.  Willing the bridge escape pod to fly clear.  The relief and delight when it did, and, later, the crushing blow of loss smashing into my chest as I saw the end of my hopes and joy in Joker’s tear-stained, guilty face_.  I haven’t seen Joker since the red beam struck the Normandy and threw us into unknown territory. I’ve heard (from Garrus via omni-tool, the only one who seems to understand my need to _know_ ) that EDI simply stopped, body folding in on itself as it hit the deck.  I can’t bear to face Joker, bereft of EDI; I know that what I see in his eyes will be the mirror of my own soul, my own loss.  I have hidden up here since Ashley carried me back aboard, unable and unwilling to look anyone in the eye, caught between a desire to be left to scream myself hoarse in unending solitude and the itching compulsion to be in the loop. _Goddess, I can’t do this again_!

   Karin’s touch on my shoulder brings me back to the moment.  “I’m… numb, Karin.  Part of me refuses to believe this is really happening - there’s nothing to see, nothing to process.  We don’t know anything; we are here, and... she is there.  I have spent so much time alone...” Tears sting my eyes as I try to voice the brave deception, that I am used to this, that my past experiences fortify me in this fresh incarnation of hell, but there are some people I cannot deceive, and Karin Chakwas is one such.

   “Oh, Liara, my dear,” Chakwas’ voice is brimming with compassion as she pulls my head to her shoulder, her warm fingers stroking the folds behind my crest.  It is an unwanted intimacy, a touch that only one human has the right to, but I cannot bring myself to hurt Karin by rejecting her well-intentioned comfort.  So I endure, sobbing softly into the surgeon’s shoulder as she speaks.  “You poor, poor, child. You bore the heavier burden by far in your relationship.  Always the one left behind, waiting.  Always knowing that, no matter how deeply Shepard loved you - and I know she loved you without reservation - her own life and happiness were always second fiddle to those of others. You knew, deep down, that this was how the war would have to end, that it would demand the last full measure of Shepard’s devotion.  Yet you stayed, you stuck with her, and in doing so opened yourself to this terrible wound. You don’t need to be brave anymore, Liara.  Not for me, not for Shepard, not for anyone.”

   I nod mutely, eyes squeezed shut, not believing a word, unable to articulate the depth of my despair, caught between wanting Karin to continue touching me and the need to have her stop. So I say nothing, do nothing, feigning exhaustion.  A small, rational part of me listens to the Doctor as she lays me back, smoothes my covers, check my vitals one more time and leave me to my rest. I doubt she believes me to be sleeping.

   “She’s right, Li.”

   I open my eyes.  Shepard is leaning casually against her desk, arms folded, head tilted slightly to one side as her forest-green gaze considers me.  “Right about what?”

   “About you bearing the greater burden.  I’m sorry for that. And I would never willingly have left you behind.  Not again, not after Alchera.  I wouldn’t have wanted to put you through that a second time.”

   “Shepard, you _wouldn’t_ have wanted... why don’t you know what happened to you?  If you’re here,” hope rising in my heart, “you must have escaped.” _Like you always do_ , I beg her silently.

   She winces, and her gaze softens into compassion, a gentle smile blooming as she cocks her hips, shifts her weight to stand and moves to perch where Chakwas was sitting moments ago.  “You tell me how this works, T’Soni, you’re the smart one,” she parries, smile turning mischievous.

   I regard her intently, reach out to touch her hand where it rests on my thigh.  Her skin is warm, her weight on the bed feels real, her hair is stirring lightly in the breeze from the open viewport (the atmosphere on this world is a close match to Thessia, and pleasantly warm).  “Rachel, please, don’t torment me,” I beg. 

She reaches out and strokes her thumb down my chin. “Liara, you know I’m not really here.  You know that’s impossible. But am I alive or dead?  I can’t answer that.  I only know what you know of the recent past, nothing more.  I am part of you.”

   Goddess. The meld.  My gift to Shepard, the bonding, a sharing of our lives and memories.  A part of her in me, a part of me in her, wherever she might be.  A defence against the crushing pain of being alone. A gift, not just for her, but from her. Selfish on my part, maybe, and certainly a deception of omission in getting Shepard to agree, but Karin is right; I knew, deep down, that something like this would happen, that I would be left alone. In desperation, I betrayed my love’s trust to make sure I would have something of her, the temptation too much to withstand.

   Shepard grips my chin gently, tilts my head to meet her eyes.  Reaching out, I comb my fingers through her deep auburn hair.  “It’s all right.  I understand why you did it. And now I’ll always be with you,” she says softly.  “You can’t get rid of me, any more than you can get rid of the dressing down your mother gave you for ruining your best feast-day dress by digging holes in the park.”

   “I never told you about that part.” The echo of embarrassment flushes my skin even now at the memory.

   “I know what you know.  Everything about you.  And if you look hard enough, you know everything about me.”  She smiles again, impish, as she taps my forehead.  “It’s all in there, Doctor.  All the answers to all your questions.”

   “Why did you leave me behind?” It slips out before I can stop myself. She sits back, taking my hand.

   “You know why.  You were hurt, you needed medical attention, and more than anything in this galaxy, I wanted you safe.  It’s the most dangerous thing we’ve ever tried to do...” I am suddenly back on Tuchanka, dust clogging my throat and eyes, fighting on instinct, pure adrenal fear, with Shepard’s half-furious, half-incredulous excuse for our slow progress ringing in my ears. 

_“There’s a REAPER in my way, Wrex!”_

   Shepard continues her line of reasoning. “I was torn about taking you in the first place, but I didn’t want... I _couldn’t_ entrust anyone else with your safety.  And I didn’t want to be parted from you. It was selfish.”

   “You make me sound so fragile.”

   “I don’t think you’re fragile and you know it.  I know how strong you are.” This with a smouldering look at the curves of my body that triggers memories of our shared passion. “It was me, not you.  I was terrified of you being hurt, but more terrified of letting you go.  Maybe I should have.  If you’d been on the _Normandy_ , that wouldn’t have happened.” She nods down at my leg guiltily.

   “If I’d been on the _Normandy_ I’d have chewed through the hull,” I retort.  “Dangerous it may have been, but there’s nowhere I’d rather have been.”

   Shepard grins as I toss her words of... Goddess, was it really only four days ago... back at her.  She leans in close, until our foreheads are touching, and kisses me chastely, a tender gesture that sets the tears flowing from my eyes.  “I’m so sorry, Li,” she whispers.  “You know I’d never have left you if there was any way around it.  I’m sorry for Alchera, for Omega, for Hagalaz, for this.  I’m such a fucking idiot. Maybe we should have just taken off, found that paradise planet and raised all those little blue children.”

   I smile at this, knowing that one of the reasons I love her so is her capacity for selflessness; she couldn’t have abandoned the fight any more than she could breathe underwater. And I recently had ample proof that she couldn’t do that.  “It’s all right.  You are who you are, and I love you for that.”

   “I don’t deserve you,” she whispers, and there are tears in her eyes now.  She sets me back against the pillows, and I strain against her grip, but she quiets me with another kiss.  “I’m with you, Liara.  Forever.  Sleep.  I’ll be here when you need me. I promise.”

   I surrender to her wish, and sleep closes over me once more.


	3. Bloody but Unbowed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard

I wake up in a bed, a medical platform.  I’m wearing a Cerberus uniform, and there’s some small stabs of pain as I sit up.  My recollection is groggy, but I know I’ve been here before.  _Cerberus_... has Miranda rebuilt me again?

   “Miri?” I call hopefully.

   “Interesting, Commander, that the first person you thought of was not me.  I think I may be hurt.”  Liara is standing behind me, dressed in the science officer’s uniform she was wearing when we first met.

   “Well, you’ll admit, Doctor, the surroundings do lend themselves to thoughts of Project Lazarus.  Am I to rise from the grave yet again?”

Liara’s smile fades as she sits next to me on the bunk.  “That remains to be seen.”

Not what I expected to hear.  “But I’m better.  Wherever I was before,” the dark, the pain, “I’m not there now.”

“You don’t know where you are,” Liara corrects me soberly.  “Neither, for that matter, do I.  This is a memory, Shepard.”

“You mean I’m dreaming?”

“You could say that.  And since I only know what you know, I cannot provide the answer you are looking for.”

“If this is my memory of this place, how come you’re here?  I’m sure I would recall if you had been around.  I definitely could have used the help.”

“You did fine with Miranda and Jacob,” Liara smiles as she brushes my hair back out of my face.  I catch her wrist, and pull her hand round so I can kiss her palm.  She slides her hand across my cheek, cups the back of my neck and pulls me closer.  Our lips meet, and she kisses me deeply, an action I reciprocate enthusiastically.  When we break for the sake of breathing, her eyes are almost black.  I nearly pushed her over the edge.   “Excited, are we?” I grin.

“You drive me wild,” she replies, drawing away and straightening her tunic, a prim, fussy gesture that just makes me want to jump her even more.

“Backatcha,” I parry, reaching for her again. She hesitates for a moment, then yanks me in with one hand; I always forget how much wiry strength lurks in her body.  I train and train and train, and I build muscle and muscle memory that makes me capable of taking on a krogan (or even a yahg) in CQC, and yet Liara, if given the opening, can throw me around like a child.  Without ever benching even a kilo, or using one single solitary photon of all that biotic power.  As she kisses me she murmurs “Embrace eternity,” and the galaxy rushes in to meet me.

 

I’m back in the dark.  The pain has receded, and I recognise that I shouldn’t try to move. So, no sight, no touch. It's hot, and I'm terribly, terribly thirsty, and so tired I can barely keep my eyes open. There’s a damp, warm sensation in my side, and I can feel something trickling down, tickling and itching at the same time. I can smell dust, charred flesh, and blood, a nauseating combination that should have me trying to cough up my guts, but my body doesn’t have the energy to spare.  Vaguely, I’m aware that this is not good.  “Liara,” I murmur weakly, “if you’re here I could do with a hand.”

No response.

“Liara?” I try again, putting as much force as I can muster into my voice.  “Liara!  Help me!”

Nothing. 

“Damn it, _please_ , Li.”  I summon the last of my energy for one more attempt.  “ _Liara!_ ”

Faintly, in the distance, I hear the sound of rubble sliding.  A curse word.  A light flares in my eyes, and then an excited babble breaks out.  A hand touches my forehead.  “Li... is that...you?” But my energy is gone, and I slide back towards the dark.  Just before I slip away, I hear her, feel her cool lips against my cheek.

“Forgive me, Rachel.  It was the only way to help you.  Now keep fighting. You have a promise to keep.”


	4. Brother-In-Arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liara

Another day of enforced bed rest makes me chafe in a manner that never used to be mine - I recognise tendrils of Shepard’s personality in this new impatience.  Intertwined with me, somewhere deep in the core of my being, Rachel is making herself felt.  Alone, I quickly become melancholy, thinking of nothing but my grief.  My avatar of memory has stayed away, and I feel her loss more keenly.

   Another night of nightmares punctuated with painful waking episodes as I thrash in my... no, _her_ bed and aggravate my fractured leg leaves me tired and ill-tempered. I am feeling very sorry for myself as Chakwas stops by for her daily check-up.  “Still not sleeping?” she asks rhetorically.  “I can give you some sleeping tablets.”

   “No, I’ll be fine.  We are stuck on this planet for the Goddess knows how long – I do not wish to waste our medical supplies with trivial complaints.  And besides, when I sleep I... dream.”

   “What do you dream of?” Chakwas asks, and again, I cannot quite recall.  There are glimpses, flashes of heat, choking, fear, and deep cold.  Also a sense of failure, deep sorrow, and guilt.  I cannot fathom what my subconscious is trying to tell me.

   “I don’t remember clearly, but they are evidently nightmares.” I gesture to the blood spotting the sheets where my stitches have burst, again, under the stress of my movements.

   “Perhaps you would be more at ease in your own quarters?  Or in the medbay?” Chakwas gently suggests, and I balk immediately.  If I move, Shepard might not return to me. Irrational fear grips me.

   “No!” It comes out forcefully.  “I want to stay here.” I sigh as I realise how petulant I sound.  “Karin, I am sorry, I did not...”

   “It’s alright, Liara, don’t worry. I understand.”  The doctor pats my shoulder.  “Come on, you’ll feel better for a shower and some breakfast.”

   The shower is a subtle torture.  Rain is plentiful on our refuge; Daniels and Donnelly were quick to take advantage, so water consumption is not a concern, and it is good to be clean, but my memories of this shower are only loosely connected to cleanliness. The sudden ache in my azure does not improve my mood.  I need something different to focus on, so I ask Chakwas as I eat my tasteless, nutrient paste breakfast if she will allow Garrus to see me.

   “If you’re sure, Liara,” the doctor agrees, albeit reluctantly.  “Garrus and the others have simply wanted to respect your privacy, give you some space.”

   “If I sit in here alone for another day, I will go mad, Karin,” I plead.  “It is only a broken leg.  I am not infectious.”  I hear a chuckle behind me at that remark, and resist the urge to turn my head.  Having the doctor see me talking to a figment of my imagination will not help my case.

   “Very well, Liara, but please don’t push too hard.  Garrus is grieving too.”

   As I wait for my Turian friend, a memory flits across my awareness, talk of a bar, and remembering to duck. “You love him too,” I challenge the silent cabin.

   “I do,” Shepard replies frankly.  “The way I love Ash, and Tali, and Miranda. Brother and sisters I never had.”

   Miranda’s inclusion on this list surprises me a little, and I say so. Shepard shrugs one shoulder as she appears and leans against the empty fish tank, watching me. “It took me by surprise too.  Wasn’t till I saw her on Horizon that it really hit home for me. Little sister, all grown up, trying to stand on her own two feet but right at the end, needing just a little help to make it.  I was so proud of her, what she’d become in such a short space of time. Almost as proud as I was when she told the Illusive Man where to shove his Collector Base.”

   “Your influence goes in deep,” I tell her, smiling at her sudden embarrassed blush.  “I don’t doubt that you were the first to show Miranda you saw her as a whole person.  Her father saw her as an asset, the Illusive Man as a tool, and many men and women would see her only as a beauty, but you saw Miranda.  The same with the C-Sec officer trying to live up to his heritage and his father’s convictions, and the quarian pilgrim whose father didn't know how to show his love.  And as for Ashl...”

   The door chimes, and Shepard fades away before I can complete my analysis.  _I’m not done with this_ , I project my thoughts out into the room as my physical voice instructs the door to open. A sense of resigned amusement wafts back to me as the door opens and Garrus enters.  For the first time I can remember, he is not in armour, and the reduction in his bulk makes him look surprisingly small and fragile.  “Liara,” he rumbles.  “Good to see you awake at last.  How’s the leg?”

   “Broken in three places.  Sore.  Itchy. Infuriating.”

   A half-smile cracks his sombre face as he sits next to me.  “You’re starting to sound like a real soldier, Shadow Broker.”

   “Thank you, your Majesty,” I mock salute, Turian style.  King of the Bottle Shooters, Shepard had dubbed him after some juvenile shooting contest on the Presidium. Tears threaten to ruin the moment as I recall Shepard confiding to me that she’d pulled her last shot to let Garrus win. 

   Garrus chuckles, but his smile fades as he takes my hand, his cool grip callused but gentle.  “Liara... I’m so sorry about Shepard.  I can’t imagine how you must feel, losing her.” _Again_ hangs on the end of the sentence, unspoken, but Garrus has a sensitive side that few people would guess at, and even fewer have seen in the light of day. Tali’s a lucky girl.

   “Thank you, Garrus.”  I squeeze his hand.  “I know how much she meant to you too.  You were the brother she always wanted.  Are you all right?”

 _I’ll be waiting at the bar_ , Shepard’s recollection whispers to me as I watch Garrus wrestle with the question, clearly torn between a need to voice the truth and the desire to protect me.  “Garrus, it’s all right.  Nothing you could say will make me feel any worse.” 

   “No, I’m not alright,” he admits abruptly.  “I feel rudderless. Adrift.  I’m so used to Shepard popping up from whatever black hole she gets herself into – volcanoes, spacing, prison, creepy underwater caves with lurking ageless evil - firing off some crappy human joke and carrying on as if nothing can touch her. Hell, she died and it didn’t noticeably slow her down. One of the last things she said to me was “There’s no Shepard without Vakarian.”  But that goes both ways. There’s no Vakarian without Shepard. Without her around, there’s only Archangel. I've relied on her so much to show me the clear path, leaned on her faith in right action for so long, believed for so long in her invincibility.” He swallows hard, choking back the emotion rising in his voice. “This time, though, this is different.  She’s not coming back, not from this.  Ash told me what happened… what she saw just as the Normandy pulled clear. No way anyone could have survived it.”

   Garrus’ blunt soldier’s practicality is not what I want to hear, nor is the reminder of watching Harbinger’s beam cauterise the battleground around the transport beam.  “I don’t know.  I can’t give up, Garrus, not just like that, not yet.  I so desperately want to believe...” _that she wouldn’t break a promise to me_.

   It’s stupendously naive, stupendously self-indulgent, stupendously childish, but I can’t stop myself. I am a scientist, the galaxy’s foremost information broker, the pre-eminent galactic expert on Protheans (simply by dint of having spoken to Javik), last scion of a house of honoured matriarchs, diplomats, leaders and thinkers whose deeds have shaped the Asari Republics, and in spite of all of my accomplishment, all of my intellect, all of my heritage, I am reduced to this juvenile hope that fairy stories can come true, this childlike faith in the power of love to defy the odds and triumph over death.

   I should know better. I know how quickly death can snatch away the happy ever after. I’ve experienced it before, as the _Normandy_ shattered into shards of metal and melted plastic, as Rachel thrashed helplessly, choking out her life in the frozen, silent vacuum.  I thought then that such anguish could never be surpassed.  How wrong I was.  It rises up to swamp me now, and I can’t breathe as I try to scream and choke down my pain at the same time.  

   Garrus is quick to wrap me in a gentle but secure hold, tucking my head under his chin and rocking me as he would an infant.  “Shhh, Liara, it’s alright.  I’ve got you,” he soothes.  “Just let it out.  You’ll feel better.” 

   I obey, sobbing brokenly into his tunic, but I don’t feel better.  As the storm of my grief passes, I am left bereft, cold and empty.  Garrus senses the change, and sits me back on my pillows, squeezing my shoulder, then he stands, straightening his clothes self-consciously.  “I’m sorry, Liara, I shouldn’t have... You’re not ready for this, not really.”

   He feels guilty, and I cannot let him leave like this - it is not his fault.  “Garrus, don’t... I don’t want to be alone.  Please.  Stay with me.”

   He looks abashed, but his decision is made without hesitation.  “Of course, Liara.  As long as you need me to.”

   “Thank you.”  I wipe my eyes and pat the bed next to me, inviting him to sit.  “So one thing you have to explain to me… weaponized wall fixtures?”


	5. Prisoner of Conscience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard

Waking up once more in the Cerberus operating theatre, I find Liara sitting on the worktop, dressed this time in Miranda’s skin-tight bodysuit and thigh-highs.  “Wow, you...” I’m lost for words as all the blood rushes from my brain to other, more instinct-driven parts of my body.  _Want_.

   Liara smiles coyly, hops down off the worktop and sashays towards me.  God Almighty, she’s going to give me heart failure.  “Like what you see, Commander?”

   My throat has gone dry, and I can just about croak an affirmative before she reaches me.  She kisses me, a platonic peck that’s nowhere near enough for my suddenly raging hormones.  “Settle down, Shepard.  We have work to do.”

   “How the hell am I supposed to concentrate?” I object plaintively, gesturing weakly at her body.

   “Deploy some of that famous Shepard resolve,” she chuckles.  “What do you notice about this room?”

   “Not much.  I only have eyes for you.”  She frowns at me, and I give up. For now.  “Ok, ok, the room.  Cerberus facility, medical bay, metal, strip lights, no windows, no door... no door.”  My turn to frown.  “No way out?”

   “Apparently not,” Liara confirms.

   “Does it matter?  If this is a memory, or a dream, won’t I eventually just wake up?”

   “Ordinarily I’d agree, but this is the second time we’ve come back here from the dark place. And quite why your subconscious has seen fit to put me in this... shameless... attire this time is just one of many questions our current situation raises.”

   “Well, I have a pretty good idea what the answer to that one is, _Doctor_ ,” I grin. 

   “Shepard, by the Goddess, I am trying to think.” Liara slaps my hands away as I reach for her.

   “Sorry.  I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”  I close my eyes for a moment, imagining a horde of husks bearing down on us, and the wave of revulsion the image provokes clears my mind of any libidinous thoughts.  “OK, so, we’re stuck in here, unless I pass out or we meld.  Then, we seem to go someplace different.  Someplace dark and painful. It scares me.”  The admission is surprisingly easy to make; with only Liara to hear me, I am free to express myself.  She already knows everything I do; more, probably.  “When we go there, I can feel myself slipping away.” An obvious truth presents itself.  “Shit.  I’m dying, aren’t I?”

   Liara’s face blanches, but she recovers quickly.  “Not if we can help it.  I’m _not_ losing you again.”

   “I’ve no desire to be lost.”

   “What happened after you left me?”

   I try to think back, but there’s nothing, no recollection.  There’s the dark place with the flickering red light, and the pain, and before that there’s watching the Normandy lift off from London’s shattered streets, carrying all of my hopes and love, everything I have left to live for and fight for.  In-between... “I can’t remember.  If you know what I know, can’t you tell me?”

   “No, that’s why I asked.  I don’t know either.”  She frowns as she looks around the room again.  “Something you can’t recall, and a room with no doors.  I have only dabbled in psychological theory, but that seems more than a coincidence, don’t you agree?”

   “I... we can’t get out unless I remember?”

   “That’s my hypothesis, anyway.”

   “OK, great.  How do we do that?”

   Liara looks uncertain.  “We have already tried a meld, to no good effect, so a direct approach seems pointless.  Perhaps if we start with older memories, good and bad, we can stimulate your mind to open up to whatever it is refusing to remember.”

   “Fine.  Where should I start?”

   “Let’s start with a good memory.  Something old and cherished.”  Liara leans in close, and breathes, “Embrace eternity,” as we kiss.  Vertigo upends my senses, and we are falling...

 

_“Rachel! Raaaaachel!”_

_I crack my eyes open at the call, muffled though it is by the heavy wooden floorboards of my grandparents’ guest bedroom. Typical that though I've spent most of the night unable to sleep, I dropped off just as the sun came up, and now I'm more tired than I should be._

_Footsteps thud up the stairs as I sit up, and the door to the bedroom swings open.  Mom looks in, grinning crookedly.  "C'mon, sleepyhead, big day today."_

_"Does is still count as sleepyhead if I only got two hours' sleep?" I ask as I stretch and swing my legs out of bed._

_"That's the kind of barrack-room philosophy that'll get you stockaded, kid," Lieutenant Commander Hannah Shepard chuckles.  "On your feet, marine."_

_"Aye aye, ma'am." I flip her a mock salute and head for the shower._

_Passing out. After three years of training, studying, practicing, today I join the Systems Alliance Navy as an officer. A second Lieutenant of the Alliance Marine Corps, the lowest form of life in the military food chain. As befits a scion of the Shepard line, I graduated top of my class, and my first posting, commanding a marine platoon aboard the SSV Shasta, awaits me once today’s ceremonies are over. Perhaps I should be nervous, I muse as I shower, but I can’t find it in myself to be worried.  Aside from few months of holidays here and there, and one school year spent living with my aunt near Vancouver, I have lived my entire life aboard warships and space stations, breathing in the Alliance Navy’s traditions, disciplines and values along with the reprocessed air.  My mom, my aunt, my uncles, and my grandfather have been my role models and my teachers, more than the Academy ever could be.  I am the archetype of a Navy brat, and it bothers me not one jot.  This is what I was born to be._

_Mom is a bridge officer, trained in navigation, command theory, and naval warfare strategy.  I know she was hoping I’d follow her to the naval side of the service, but I felt strongly that I wanted to continue my Dad’s service as a marine officer.  It’s more dangerous, but it’s where the action is, where you get to meet people and help them, land on alien planets and experience different cultures.  Hiding aboard ship and having two day’s R and R now and again doesn’t count as seeing the galaxy, as far as I’m concerned._

_I carefully put on my new Class A dress uniform and mirror-polished boots, check my appearance is satisfactory, and head downstairs.  Mom is waiting with Grandpa and Grandma, all three of them smiling, though Grandma has tears in her eyes.  Mom’s in uniform, and with a smile, I snap to and salute my superior officer.  “Commander Shepard.”_

_“Lieutenant.  Stand easy,” my mom grins as she returns the salute.  “You look good, Rachel.  Your Dad would be proud.  And so am I.”_

_“Thanks, Mom,” I grin back._

_“That’s my girl,” Grandpa chuckles.  A retired Marine Colonel and veteran of the First Contact war, my grandfather has all his scars on the front and a battalion of commendations and citations, one for each bullet hole, as he likes to joke.  “But God help the jarheads of the Shasta, getting lumped with a boot brown bar.”  Grandma bumps his shoulder in reproach, and his grin broadens.  “You remember what I taught you; listen to your Gunny, learn from them, treat your squad with respect and discipline, and you’ll do just fine.”_

_“Yessir, Colonel Shepard, sir!”_

_“Rachel, sweetie, I’d hug you but I don’t want to crease your dress blues.” Grandma settles for kissing me on the cheek.  “We’re proud of you, as proud as we were of Daniel.  But promise me you’ll be careful out there.”_

_“I will be, Grandma, I promise,” I agree solemnly, aware that seeing me ready to follow their eldest son into harm’s way can’t be easy for my grandparents._

_Grandpa turns to the table, and lifts a marine officer’s mameluke sword in a worn but highly polished silver scabbard.  “This was your Dad’s, and before that it was mine, and my father’s, right back to the first Shepard to put on the United States Marine Corps uniform in nineteen forty-one. It’s yours now.  That sword has seen the awarding of two Stars of Terra, three Medals of Honor, and eight Navy Crosses. Every Shepard who has carried that blade has demonstrated extraordinary heroism.  Do us proud, kiddo.”_

_There are tears in my eyes as I accept the sword from my grandfather and buckle it carefully to my belt.  “I will, Grandpa.  I swear.”_

_“Then the last thing I have to say to you, Lieutenant Shepard, is this: I love you.”_

_“I love you too.  All of you.”_

 

I snap awake, back in the med bay.  Liara is sitting beside me, holding my hand.  “Woah, that was intense,” I groan, rubbing my face with my hands.

   “Yes,” Liara agrees.  “It’s a beautiful memory, Rachel. There’s so much love in your family.”

   “Yeah.  That was the last time I saw my grandparents in person - they were killed in a transport accident nine months later, on the way back from a joint turian human memorial service for the First Contact War.”  I smile wistfully.  “I added two Stars of Terra and a number of other medals to that sword, but Grandpa never knew.”

   “Do you still have it?”

   “I don’t know, actually.  It was in a lock-box on the Arc when I died, so I guess Mom might have picked it up.  I hope she did.  God, I hope she’s OK.”

   Liara leans in and kisses me reassuringly.  “I’m sure she’s fine.  If she’s even half the officer you are, you have nothing to worry about.”

   “Thanks, Li.”  I’m still worried, but I appreciate the comfort.  “OK, then, what’s next?”


	6. Check-Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liara

   Years of treating marines and sailors has made Karin Chakwas utterly immune to any form of persuasion from her patients. As Chief Surgeon of an Alliance vessel, she has authority so complete that mere Admirals must bow to her whims.  No-one who wears the uniform may countermand her medical judgement, and woe betides the crewmember, officer or enlisted, who challenges the divine mandate of “relieved from duty on medical grounds.” Shepard was frequently a culprit, suffering a number of bruising collisions which always seemed to end the same way; Chakwas serenely returning to her desk, Shepard sulking on the cot, or, in less severe cases, pacing the CIC like a caged animal as the shore party headed off without her.

   Fortunate for me then that I am not a member of the Alliance military, and I have no need to try and persuade; defying the doctor will cause grumbling, dark looks, and a healthy dose of scolding from atop the moral high ground when I am inevitably forced to return to her care, but she cannot order me to remain in bed.  A good thing too, for I am heartily fed up of lying in Shepard’s bed, alone with my thoughts.  Against her better judgement, Karin has provided me with crutches to get around, and with a supreme effort, I manage to wash and dress in casual exercise clothes without assistance. As I make to leave the room, however, an unreasoning panic grips me.  I don’t want to lose my attachment to Shepard.  Away from this room, what if I cannot see her? What if it breaks the connection?

“You think I’m bound by physical dimensions?” Shepard’s question is amused, and she turns me to face her, tapping my forehead once again.  “Where you go, I go. I may not have tentacles, but there’s definitely a creature inside your mind.”  Kissing the spot she has just touched, she winks at me and fades away.

   Still, I am reluctant to leave without some sort of physical connection, so I lurch over to the closet.  Neat arrays of fresh BDUs, a service dress uniform worn once; these are not what I am looking for.  I open one of the drawers, and pluck out my prize; a faded grey-black N7 hoodie.  Shepard had lent it to me one evening during the week’s leave we had spent on Intai’sei after defeating Saren, and I had absent-mindedly left it in the apartment rather than returning it.  After her death, before Shepard’s mother had gone to close up the property and sell it off, I had gone back to the little house and taken a few things, keepsakes to remind me of my lost love. Shepard had been overjoyed to be reunited with it, two years later, when I stuffed it into my luggage for the trip to Hagalaz. I have stolen it back on numerous occasions since, and it feels right to slide the jacket over my shoulders and zip it up. The cotton still carries the scent of Shepard for the moment, another sorely needed physical comfort.

   As I make to close the cupboard, the service dress uniform catches my eye again, and on a whim, I open the drawer where the accompanying accessories are stored, returned from Admiral Shepard’s care courtesy of Admiral Hackett.  The rows of medals and commendation and service ribbons, a riot of colour and glittering metal, are a testament to my love’s courage and conviction. Two Stars of Terra, a Salarian Silver Dagger, a Turian Nova Cluster, Athame’s Cross (the highest decoration the Asari Republics can bestow), and a host of others I do not recognise.  Touching the cool metal of the first Star triggers a sudden flashback.

 

_I’m standing in the Captain’s cabin of the SR-1, watching as Shepard fusses with the accoutrements of her dress uniform.  “Damn it,” she mutters, scowling at her reflection in the mirror inside her locker door._

_“What’s wrong, Shepard?”_

_“I can’t get this damn bar to sit straight.  No matter what I do, it’s lopsided.” She plucks irritably at the rack of medals pinned to the left side of her chest.  “That’ll look good, won’t it – the Saviour of the Citadel shows up to receive the adulation of the masses looking like some bum who found the uniform lying crumpled in the gutter.”_

_I cross the cabin to her side, chuckling lightly.  “Don’t be so melodramatic.  You look very smart.  Formal attire suits you.”_

_“I like the sword,” she admits, patting the archaic weapon hanging from her belt.  “Don’t much care for the rest of it, though.  Too much hard work to get right. I’m a soldier, not a damn clothes horse.”_

_I reach out to unclip the medal bar, pinning it back to the heavy cloth slightly higher so that it does not pull.  I can feel her heartbeat, the warmth of her body bleeding through the material.  I can smell the shower gel she uses, oranges and cinnamon, and the clean scent of her hair.  I pat the decorations, and her hand closes over mine, setting my own heart thumping as she squeezes my fingers lightly.  “Much better,” I whisper, focusing my gaze on the shining discs of metal._

_“I’m glad you approve, Doctor,” she murmurs, her words a hot breath on my neck mere seconds before her lips nuzzle against my pulse point._

_“Commander,” I gasp, trying to concentrate as her free hand circles to the small of my back and pulls me against her.  “Rachel, you… we’ll be late.  The ceremony… the Council… Goddess...mmph.”_

_She stops my protests by the simple expedient of kissing me, her mouth locking against mine with urgent desire.  I wrap my arms around her neck, giving as good as I get, running my fingers up through her soft hair as her hands explore my back and crest, causing a newly familiar tension to coil deep in my belly._

_“Screw the Council,” she whispers as we break for air.  “Actually, no... I take that back. If there has to be screwing…”_

_I put a finger to her lips.  “I don’t know what you mean by “screwing”, Commander Shepard, but I’ll make you a deal.  You go to the Presidium now, and get the credit you deserve for saving the galaxy, and you can explain it later.  If you behave yourself, I may even allow you to demonstrate.”  I am cheating, of course; proximity to Shepard, touching the edges of her mind, has given me a pretty good idea of what the colloquialism refers to._

_Shepard swallows hard, her desire for me flaming in her eyes, but well banked as she releases me from her embrace.  “I’ll hold you to that, T’Soni,” she threatens._

_“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”_

 

   Armoured in the N7 jacket, I am able to make my way to the elevator and descend to the crew deck, carefully navigating the downward slant in the deck as I swing down toward the medical bay.  Karin’s largesse comes with numerous strings attached, and having got my way regarding my mobility, I am not stupid enough to antagonize her further. Choose your battles carefully, as my Spectre would say.

   The medbay is spotless, unchanging, and I often forget that this is no longer the same ship that I first knew. Here, where Karin holds court, the chaos of change, of war, is simply not permitted.  Ever since I arrived aboard the first Normandy, a naive, reclusive loner, this room has been a refuge. It protected me from the initial mistrust of the crew, it was where I really began to get to know Shepard, it was where Karin began (and continues) my education about humanity.

   Unflappable, authoritative, and impossibly kind, Dr. Chakwas is, to my mind, everything a mother should be. Her smile for me as I hobble into her domain is genuine.  "Liara, good. I'm pleased to see that Shepard's stubbornness hasn't entirely corrupted you.  Sit on the bed, if you please.  Would you care for some tea?"

   “Thank you, Karin,” I accept gratefully, taking the perch she has indicated. The doctor hands me a steaming mug, and plucks gently at my jacket as I wrap my hands around the tea.

   “That looks comfortable.”

   “It is.  In more ways than one.”

   Karin nods in understanding as she activates her omni-tool.  “Let’s have a look at you, then.”

   The business of the check-up is brief; for a human, Chakwas has an excellent knowledge of asari physiology (much of her field experience garnered from having me as a subject on a regular basis) and she is quick to declare herself satisfied with my physical well-being. The core of the examination begins when she seats herself on the bed beside me, her own cup of tea in hand.  “You’re healing up nicely, as I would expect.  You won’t need those crutches in a few days, and your flesh wounds are mostly superficial; just try to avoid scratching them.  How are you sleeping?”

   “Badly,” I admit.  For all the comfort my avatar of memory affords, my nights are restless.

   “That’s to be expected.  Uncertainty and grief never permit true rest.”

   “Karin... tell me honestly. Am I holding out a false hope?”  I cross my arms over my chest, hugging myself defensively to shield me against the doctor’s response.

   “Oh, Liara, my dear.” Chakwas reaches down to squeeze my knee.  “I can’t answer that for you.  From what Ashley has told me, it seems extremely unlikely that anyone could have survived Harbinger’s attack.  But I’ve seen Shepard do the seemingly impossible on many occasions, usually patched her up afterwards as well.  I can’t definitively tell you that she is dead without having seen a body, but the odds, even for Shepard, seem very long.  In the end, though, only you can decide how much hope to harbour, and when it is time to let go.”   

   Tears sting my eyes as I nod. It’s not what I wanted to hear. Childishly, I wanted her to tell me everything would be all right, but Karin is too good a friend, too professional a doctor, too compassionate a soul to countenance such a lie. Miserably, I lean my head against her shoulder, and let the tears fall to the spotless sheets below me. For now I will carry on hoping.  I am not ready to do otherwise.


	7. A Sudden Destiny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard

I’m on shore leave, on Earth for the first time in about four years, enjoying the feel of fresh air on my skin and true gravity under my feet.  Bunking at my aunt’s place in Western Canada, not too far from Vancouver’s repple-depple, I’m waiting for a new assignment.  My company’s time aboard the SSV _Cairo_ is at an end; the old warhorse is being put in for refit.  Our future lies with a newer vessel, and a new CO. I’m both saddened and excited by the prospect; the _Cairo_ has been my home for three years, and I have good friends in her command crew, but the idea of new adventures, a different patrol route, is enticing.  And my team are ready to be challenged.  Bravo Company, 2 nd Regiment of the 103rd. Absolutely badass.

   My morning five-k is filled with idle speculation on the prospects of our new deployment, and my mind is ticking over, identifying soft spots in my company and potential issues as I arrive back at the house.  I’ve no sooner unlaced my trainers than my omni-tool begins to flash, audio message.  I grin; my platoon leader has been going on for weeks about a pub crawl while on leave.  This is most likely my invitation.

   “Lieutenant Commander Shepard?”

   Uh-oh.  That’s not Dupree’s drawling Afrikaner accent; that’s a voice with officious dripping from every syllable.  That’s the voice of the repple-depple, recalls, and revoked leave.  _Aw, shit_.

   “Shepard here, go ahead.”

   “Commander, this is Major Friedrich, Chief-of-Staff to Admiral Hackett, Fifth Fleet.”

   “Yes, sir?”

  “The Admiral would like to see you as soon as possible.  Please report to HQ at the double.  I’ve taken the liberty of sending a car.”

   “Yes, sir.”  I can hear the vehicle approaching.  “Sir, I’m out of uniform, do I have time to...”

   “Don’t _worry_ about it LC, just come as you are.  Friedrich out.”

   I look down at my sweat-soaked t-shirt and running shorts, then shrug.  Orders are orders.  Re-lacing my shoes, I step out of the house and into the cyclone of the skycar’s landing.

 

Major Friedrich’s expression is pure disdain as I present myself at the temporary offices set aside for visiting fleet commanders at HQ.  “Hmm.  I didn’t realise “out of uniform” was a euphemism for “not dressed”, Lieutenant Commander, “ he huffs, “ but I suppose it’s too late now. Damn jarheads.”

   “Yes, sir,” I agree stoically.  With officers like Friedrich, dumb adherence to protocol is the only way through. An Admiral’s Chief-of-Staff is a desk jockey through and through; they have to be, in order to cope with the tremendous amount of bureaucracy the Systems Alliance wraps its military commanders in.  Ever since the First Contact war, the noose of red tape has inexorably tightened around the throats of even junior officers, requiring paperwork in triplicate for the most banal things.  So OCD coupled with anal retentiveness and a prissy need for order are the paramount attributes of any aide-de-camp, and Friedrich has the lot in spades. He also has the standard REMF’s contempt for field officers and soldiers, who are naturally uncouth half-house-trained apes to a man. 

   The sound of my voice has provoked a response from the inner sanctum.  “Well, well, if it ain’t Shepard junior Mark Two,” a familiar voice rumbles, and to my surprise and delight, Captain David Anderson steps out.  My Dad’s best friend, my former CO, my mentor, my hero.  “How you doing?”

   “Very well thank you, sir.  It’s great to see you.”  I can’t help but grin.

   “You too, kid, you’re looking a lot better than last time I saw you.”

   “Last time you saw me was after that delightful little shindig with the Blue Suns on Benning, sir.  I had a broken ankle, a dislocated shoulder and a concussion.”

   “Well, at least the bones seem to have healed up nicely.” Anderson winks slyly.  “Come on, kid, Hackett and I have something we want to discuss with you.”

   “That sounds ominous, sir.”

   “Ah, you’ll like it, Shepard.  Not a lot, but you’ll like it.  Friedrich, the Commander looks a little thirsty, could you get some water for her, please?”

   Friedrich manages to school his scowl, just, as he nods.  He walks out of the reception, and Anderson chuckles darkly as he leads me into the main office.  “Even for a COS, your boy Friedrich is a jackass, Steve.”

   Admiral Steven Hackett, Commanding Officer, Fifth Fleet, and Alliance Navy legend, grunts in amusement.  “Well, it’s all right for you - you don’t have to listen to him every day.  Still, he can navigate the form-filling better than any five other people I know, so he has his uses.  As we all do.”

   I snap smartly to attention.  Out of uniform, I don’t salute, but Hackett seems disinclined to stand on ceremony.  “Commander Shepard, at ease.  It’s a pleasure to meet you in person at last. I’ve heard a lot about you, mostly from Anderson here and your mother.”

   “Captain Anderson’s been known to exaggerate his war stories, sir, and my mother loves me.  It might be wise to take their comments with a pinch of salt.”

   Hackett smirks, the expression tugging at his scar.  “Well said, Commander.  Have a seat.”

   I take the chair he gestures to and Friedrich ghosts into the room, depositing a glass of water at my side with a glare before slipping away again. Hackett lets me drink, then gestures to Anderson.  “The Captain has a proposition for you, Commander Shepard.”

   Anderson nods.  “What do you know about Project Omaha, Shepard?

   “Not much, sir.  It’s a joint engineering project between the Alliance and the Turians, building some sort of prototype ship?”

   “That’s right.”  Anderson smiles.  “The ship has been completed and is ready for shakedown.  She’s a frigate, and we’ve named her the Normandy.  She’s equipped with a number of special systems, including stealth capability.  We see her role as that of a pathfinder, slipping into systems to sniff out trouble, deal with anything she’s equipped for, and call in the cavalry if needed.”

   I nod.  “Sounds like she fills our long-time need for better infiltration, better intel, and better scouting tactics.  Would have been handy for Shanxi, Torfan, Mindoir, half-a-dozen other stand-up fights I can think of.”

   “Absolutely, Shepard, I knew you’d get it,” Anderson enthuses. 

   “And how do you feel about the Turians being involved, Commander?” Hackett asks.

   “I think it’s very positive, sir,” I answer truthfully.  “I get that I’m in a minority with that viewpoint, but we’re part of a galactic community.  Sure, we fought the Turians, but that’s the past, and we didn’t know any better at the time.  There’s so much we can learn from the other races, and if we have aspirations to the Council, well, I guess we have to prove that we can play well with others.”

   Hackett smiles broadly.  “Well, that settles it in my mind.  Go ahead, David.”

   “Shepard, you’re right.  The Normandy will be a symbol of the Alliance’s desire to co-operate and build a better future with our friends and neighbours. I have been honoured with her command, and one of the perks of my new position is the right to hand-pick my crew.  I want you on my team.”

   My jaw drops.  “Excuse me, sir?”

   “You heard me.  I want you on my crew.  I want the best working with me, and as far as I’m concerned, that means I need you.”

   I’m speechless.  Anderson wants me for the crew of the Alliance’s most important new ship? _Fuck me!_ “Sir, I... wow.  If she’s a frigate, is there enough room for company strength marine presence?”

   Anderson shakes his head.  “No, platoon strength, and I have a platoon leader appointed already, a Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko from the 203.  He’s a good man, level-headed.  He’s going to go far, and he needs bringing on by a good command team.”

   “So I’d be leaving my company?” I ask, gutted when Anderson nods.  “But, sir, if you don’t need a marine commander...”

   “I need an XO, Shepard,” Anderson says gently. “You’ve been a company CO for three years.  Major Ramachandra says he has nothing left to teach you.  You’re an N7 graduate, an experienced leader, and a hell of a tactician.  Time to take the step up and learn the ropes of ship command. I want you as my executive officer on the SSV Normandy.  What do you say?”

   What can I say?  An opportunity like this comes once in a lifetime.  “Yes, sir.  Absolutely. I’m game.”

   “Excellent.  Welcome aboard, Commander.”  Anderson bounds out of his chair to shake my hand vigorously.

   “Thank you, sir.”  I turn to Hackett.  “And thank you too, sir.  This is a tremendous privilege.  I’ll do my best to be worthy of the trust you’ve extended.”

   “We don’t doubt that, Commander,” Hackett chuckles.  “And to demonstrate that trust a little more completely, effective immediately you are promoted to the rank of Commander, Systems Alliance Navy.  Can’t have the CMO outranking the XO, after all.”

   “Thank you, sir.”

   “We’ll get the paperwork sorted this afternoon, Friedrich’s already hard at work on the prep,” Anderson adds.  “Your gear’s already at the repple-depple, correct?”

   “Yes, sir.”

   “Then this should be straightforward.  I’ll get the personnel files and the mission dockets sent over to you, as well as the notes from Omaha, and you can get yourself squared.  You’ll report for duty in five days’ time at Jump Zero.  All clear?”

   “As crystal, sir.”

   “Good.  Then I’d say this calls for a drink.”


	8. Lair of the Shadow Broker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liara

   The day after my check-up, I am finally moved by curiosity and boredom to visit my own quarters.  The monitors are powered down, as is Glyph; the heart of the network is hibernating.  Tentatively, as I am not sure galactic communications even exist any longer, and after checking with our engineering team that we have sufficient resources, I activate the power, bringing Glyph and the screens to life.  “Status report, Glyph,” I demand, getting my order in before the VI can execute its damnable greeting subroutines.

   “Processing.”  The little sphere of light begins pulsing and spinning as it commences a scan of all of my systems.  For the first time in days I think of Feron, and pray fervently that my friend is somehow safe and well.  He went to ground when Cerberus took my ship, depositing our servers and our dead-vault in a location unknown even to me. Hopefully buried someplace deep and quiet, away from anything the Reapers might have considered a target. “Ninety-seven percent of the network is down, Dr. T’Soni.  The remaining three percent comprises discrete nodes rather than a networked system. We are overdue status reports from all operatives.  All backups are dated to five standard solar days ago - no new updates have gone through in the intervening time.”

   “Is there any point in starting one manually at this time?”

   “No.  Insufficient mass of new data on the local server.”

  “Very well.  Get me a summary of the last known status of all major theatres, then all relays.  In order of importance, Earth, Thessia, Palaven, Tuchanka, Rannoch.”

   “Processing.  It will take some time, Doctor; the ship’s resources are operating at minimum capacity.”

   “That’s fine, Glyph.  Will the summary report compilation use all of your runtimes?”

   “Approximately thirty percent.”

   “Then please also run a full diagnostic of the Normandy’s systems, prepare a damage report and correlate it with all known solutions, prioritizing repurposing from inventory and repair rather than replacement. Then copy to Lieutenant Adams, Admiral Zorah, and the engineering team.”  Adams, Tali, and the other engineers will need all the help they can get. Glyph is a poor substitute for EDI, but it will still be useful.

   “Processing. Will that be all, Doctor?”

   “For the moment.”  I nod a dismissal, and Glyph floats away. So, the Shadow Broker is, for the moment, redundant.  Blind, deaf, and dumb.  After nearly nine months of total immersion in the galaxy’s oceans of data, I feel stranded, disconnected. I stare morosely at the wall of dark monitors and the absence of purpose it represents. To have nothing to do, no way to learn anything, infuriates me. 

   All my life I have been driven by curiosity, exploring history as a child, archaeology as an adolescent and in my earliest adulthood, and most recently, the keys to the puzzle of the Reapers.  The urge to see what lies on the next page, around the next corner, beneath the Prothean capstone, has driven me from discovery to discovery, library to library, planet to planet, ever since I learned to read.  Inquisitiveness has been the hallmark of my relationships as well; pestering my mother and my aunts for explanations, badgering my teachers with questions, driving my friends to distraction at university by dissecting every last detail of our assignments, persecuting my fellow postdoctoral researchers and professors by drilling down into their every finding.  To a certain extent, information brokering was simply the next logical step along the path.

   A great many people have told me they find this aspect of my character to be more than a little irritating, but Shepard found it adorable when applied to her, amusing when directed at our friends and crewmates, and astonishing when my tenacious attention to detail yielded critical information or useful context.  Like most soldiers, Shepard is happy to consume operational intelligence without having any clue as to the process involved in preparing it.  When I tried to explain once, shortly after my elevation to single most influential being in the galaxy, she bore my lecturing with good grace for about fifteen minutes, then picked me up, threw me onto the bed, ripped open my jacket and proceeded to let me know in no uncertain terms that she wasn’t the _slightest_ bit interested in the minutiae of intelligence gathering. _I’m a woman of action, Doctor T’Soni._

_So I’ve discovered, Commander Shep... ah, Goddess, please do that again. Oh..._

_See?  This is...mmm... how it’s meant to be. You provide me with intel, and I...mmm... use it to make my mission a success._

_Rachel...is this…_ really _… your... your idea of sweet talk?_

_No, not really, but if it’s working..._

_Oh, it’s working. By all means... continue._

_Mmm.  Where was I... Oh, yeah. After all, you... are... the brains... of the outfit, Doctor._

_Why, C-commander, I’m blushing.  Ahhh..._

_That’s not blushing, Doctor, that’s..._

_Oh!... I... just shut up and kiss me, Commander._

_Yes, ma’am!_

   I am aware that I can sometimes come across as obsessive, aloof, and pedantic, the product of too many years with nothing but my own company. In the secure environment of the Normandy, with my friends and Rachel to support me, I have become better at interacting, and using humour to deflect these perceptions. Proof that I have graduated from a prestigious school in this regard was making Vega nearly choke on his pizza with my hanar prostitute wisecrack during the wholly surreal clone incident.   

   “That was a good one.  I fell for that completely,” Shepard observes from behind me.  “You’re getting really good at that deadpan sarcasm.”

    “Of all of my skills, that’s the one you choose to compliment?”

   “It’s more important than you realise,” Shepard notes, embracing me from behind and dropping her chin onto my shoulder. “People like other people more when they’re funny.  You were far too serious when we met.  And you were definitely far too serious while you were on Ilium.”

   “I didn’t have much to laugh about,” I reply, tipping my head to one side in the hope of receiving a kiss. “Chasing the Shadow Broker was a deadly business, as you saw - there was no room for levity.”

   “There’s nearly always room for levity,” Shepard disagrees, obliging me by nuzzling her lips against my neck.  _You just_ had _to give them tactical advice!_ The quip echoes across my memory as she speaks, proving her point, and I smile. “And,” Shepard continues, “it’s almost always possible to find something to smile about, even if you’re chasing a rogue Spectre and his pet Reaper halfway across the galaxy to forestall the extinction of all organic life.”

   “So what should I be smiling about now?”

   “Well, there’s the irony of the Shadow Broker being cut off from any information, for starters. The potential for embarrassment if someone were to walk in and hear you talking to yourself.”  She slips her fingers beneath my shirt.  “And the fact that someone will inevitably interrupt us if we try to take this any further.  Right... about...”

   “Liara, may I come in?” Chakwas’ voice is shockingly loud behind me, and I jump at the shock combined with the pinch to my waist delivered by Shepard’s avatar as she vanishes.

   “Goddess!”

   “I’m sorry, Liara, I didn’t mean to startle you.  I knocked twice, and you didn’t respond.  I thought there might have been something wrong.”

   “Wrong?” I query weakly.  “No, I... I was just thinking... daydreaming, I suppose.” I can feel my blush heating my cheeks.  I was so wrapped up in Shepard’s touch... there is _no way_ I can admit this to the doctor.  She will think I’m crazy. Karin’s expression is bemused as she advances and places a warm hand against my brow.  She holds it for a moment, then chuckles, a rich, warm laugh that soothes me even as it adds to my confusion.  “Karin, what are you doing?”

   “It’s an old human gesture.  Back in the day, people would use it to try and determine if someone had a fever - if the skin was hot to the touch, it was an indicator of illness.  With the advent of proper thermometers, it persisted, but took on a slightly different meaning - if someone said something odd, or acted out of character, a friend might put a hand to their forehead to imply some sort of illness.”  Chakwas smiles at me broadly.  “I laughed when I realised that given your different body temperature, it’s a completely useless gesture for an asari anyway.”  She takes my hands and squeezes them.  “Just goes to show how I’ve come to think of you as family first, asari second.”

    A new wave of embarrassment reignites the fading heat in my face.  “Thank you, Karin, that means a lot to me.  Your kindness and friendship are things that I treasure.  My time aboard the Normandy has been the happiest of my life, and that is not solely due to my relationship with Shepard.  And without you to guide and reassure me, even that might never have come to pass.  I can never thank you enough for your friendship.”

   “My dear girl, you are more than welcome.  If I were twenty-five years younger, you can bet I’d have given Shepard a run for her credits to win your hand. I was quite the firebrand in my golden youth.”  Chakwas winks at me.  “As it is, I’ve been given great joy in having the good fortune to be part of this crew, watching you all grow, and being able, in some small way, to help you achieve your goals, even when others ask the almost-impossible of you. No one accomplishes such tasks alone, and Shepard found and nurtured in each of you a complementary strength that made the team better, made her better.  And speaking of nurture, I came to ask a favour of you.”

   “Of course, what do you need?”

   Chakwas chuckles.  “You and Shepard, two peas in a pod.  You never even hesitate.  I’d like you to talk to Ashley.  She’s holed up in her quarters, and refuses to talk to me or Garrus.”

   I can’t imagine why Karin thinks I’ll have more of a chance than Garrus, but I have to try.  “Of course, Karin, as soon as I can.”

   Chakwas inclines her head. “Thank you, Liara. If you’re willing and feeling up to it, I’d imagine many of the crew would actually welcome the chance to speak to you.  They need the chance to express their grief, and it might help you to hear how they felt about Shepard.  But it’s entirely your choice.  Now, I’ll leave you to your work, but remember, I expect to see you for a bandage change this evening.”

   “Yes ma’am.”


	9. D-Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard

I’m in love.

   The Normandy is the most beautiful ship I’ve ever seen.  The marriage of Turian and Human shipbuilding has produced something almost asari in its graceful lines and sleek curves, quite unlike the standard frigates either race is known for.  I stand on Jump Zero’s observation deck for a good ten minutes just looking at her before shouldering my duffle and heading to the airlock. The scanners detect me and begin decontamination, then the security VI chirps for attention.  _“Name, rank and posting, please.”_

   “Rachel Shepard, Commander, Executive Officer, SSV _Normandy_.” A thrill tingles through me at the words.  I never expected to be considered for a ship’s command crew this early, and for it to be the newest ship in the fleet, under Anderson’s command - it’s a dream come true. My Mom was almost giddy when I told her.

   “ _Logged. The Executive Officer is aboard. Lieutenant Pressly stands relieved. Commander Shepard has the deck.”_

   “Captain Anderson’s not aboard?”

_“The Captain is ashore, and due to return at 1500 hours.”_

   I check my chrono.  Fifteen minutes.  Well, I’m not hanging about the airlock like an FNG with no home to go to.  And having been announced on deck, it would look bad if I skulked off now.  Taking a deep breath, I square my shoulders and step confidently across the coaming and onto the bridge of my new home.

   The grizzled marine on the lock snaps to with precise efficiency.  “Welcome aboard, Commander.”

   I return the courtesy with a quick salute.  “Thanks, Chief... Crosby, right?”

   “Yes, ma’am.” He looks pleased.  I’ve done my homework. The first thing enlisted marines and ratings look for in a new officer is if they care to get to know the people they command.  This is my first test, and I’ve passed, at least as far as Crosby is concerned.  The second test follows right on.

   “At ease.  Ain’t you a little venerable to be on door duty, Chief?”

   Crosby grins as he settles into parade rest. Second test passed.  Door duty is for privates, usually privates on punishment detail. “Truth be told, the skipper wanted me to look out for you, ma’am.  He was called away unexpected, and he thought you might show up before he could get back.”

   “Well, I appreciate the welcome, Chief. What’s your assignment when you’re not babysitting officers? The jackets I’ve read didn’t drill down into platoon make-up.”

   “Fire team specialist, ma’am. Bravo section leader. Captain Anderson’s recommendation; I served with him on the _Hastings_.”

   I whistle softly, impressed.  Anderson’s war stories from the _Hastings_ were always favourites of mine when he came to visit.  “Then I’d say Mr. Alenko has landed on his feet. He gonna have any work to do?”

   “Not if I can help it, ma’am.”

   “Anything you think we’re missing?”

   Crosby scratches at his five o’clock shadow. “Experience, mostly. Captain’s prerogative for choosing his crew didn’t extend to the marine platoon beyond me, so there are quite a few fresh boots aboard, not quite FNGs but close to it.  I’d like an armoury specialist and a good platoon chief for the LT, too, but it ain’t an ideal world.”

   “You’ve raised these points with Mr. Alenko?”

   “He has, ma’am.”  A new voice from behind me.  I turn to see a dark-haired, lithe young man in impeccably pressed BDUs approaching, a serious expression adorning a devastatingly handsome face.  He halts at attention and throws an inch-perfect salute.  “Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko reporting.”

   I return his salute. “Lieutenant, good to meet you.”  I offer my hand, and he takes it with a firm but controlled handshake.  “At ease.  I was just making sure the Chief looks after his officers OK.”

   Alenko smiles.  “He sure does.  I share his concerns regarding our combat time and armoury capacity.  We’ll have to train hard to build unit cohesion, and that should go a long way to helping matters. I’ve asked the Chief to vet for a potential armoury candidate to train up, and in the meantime that’s a duty I can take.  I’m not a specialist, but I’m pretty handy with a mod.”

   I nod my approval.  The Alliance Marines are not quite “everybody works, everybody fights,” but I see no reason why officers should not be expected to perform maintenance tasks normally appointed to NCOs.  In fact, to my mind, a good marine officer should be able to turn their hand to any support duty required by the team.  For naval officers this is impractical - few and far between are the people qualified in engineering, navigation and flight control - but any marine who can’t mod a weapon, man a turret, field repair an M35, apply first aid, or keep their armour maintained will be a dead marine very quickly, no matter if their file is stamped enlisted or commissioned. “Sounds good, LT. I can lighten that load a little, though - I’ll maintain my own gear and weapons.”  At N7 school, they train paranoia into you; I trust no one but myself with the kit that keeps me alive. I turn to Crosby.  “Thanks, Chief, the LT can take me from here.  I’ll let you get back to doing real work. Dismissed.”

   “Yes, ma’am.”  Crosby braces, then heads off down the bridge to the main command deck.  Alenko is watching me patiently for a cue, and I pat the strap of my duffle.

   “Can you show me where I’ll be racking, LT? I’d like to get this stowed before the Skipper gets back.”

   “Oh, sure, ma’am, this way.” He leads off down the bridge after Crosby.

   “Shepard,” I correct him.

   “Ma’am?”

   “Call me Shepard, LT, when it’s just us. Commander in company.  Ma’am makes me think my grandma’s in the room.”

   “OK... Shepard.  If you call me Kaidan when it’s just us.”

   “Deal, Kaidan.”  I’ve been debating this for a couple of days now; how formally I should present myself.  My preferred style of command is to be quite informal with my team; while rank and chain of command are paramount to discipline, the divisions can sometimes be barriers rather than enablers.  I’ve read Alenko’s service file, and he’s not been commissioned long.  He is considered to have a lot of potential, hence why Anderson wants me to develop him, both as a soldier and a leader.  I can do that best if he trusts me, and that’s the trick of effective command - to get people to trust you, you have to trust them first.  “Hard to believe I’m really here, y’know?  It hasn’t sunk in yet.”

   Kaidan smiles as he stops in front of a sleep pod with my name on it, end of the row on the port side, right next to a locker which I see is also mine.   “I can relate, Shepard.  I read my assignment notice out loud three times before it sank in.  I mean, being requested personally by Captain Anderson... Wow.”

   “I know.  He’s a legend, and it’s a real privilege,” I agree as I sling my duffel into the locker. 

   “Yeah, and then he told me you would be coming aboard too.  I gotta tell you, Commander. The news went through the ship like wildfire.  The Captain’s a legend, but you...”

   _Uh-oh, here it comes..._

   “You’re the hero of Elysium.  What you did there...”

   “What I did there was what any Alliance marine would have done, as was evidenced by the number of off-duty jarheads like me who stood up to be counted.”  I lean against the bulkhead, clasping my wrist to keep my hands still.  “It was training, mostly.  You’ll know yourself, you get into combat, there are moments when your brain is just nowhere, but somehow, your body knows what to do.”  Alenko nods, eyes shining at being taken into my confidence.  “The first hour or so it was pure drill.  Once the first wave died off, there was time to plan, think, get creative, and I had a lot of help from a lot of good people, many of whom didn’t make it.  But it was all by-the-book stuff. Dig in, call the cavalry, hold your position till the cavalry comes. And if they don’t, well, you hold anyway.”  I pause in my recollection; the sadness of losing my comrades that day will never really leave me.  “One thing about heroes, Kaidan; when you look into it, turns out they very rarely act alone.  I was able to do what I did on Elysium because Alliance Marines had my back.  Hence why you’re right about training; more than anything else, drill will turn your fresh boots into devil dogs.”

   Alenko smiles.  “You got it. My personal experience here at Jump Zero bears that out.”

   “You trained here?”

   He nods.  “We called it Brain Camp.”

   Of course.  Alenko’s a biotic, it’s in his file.  “Sorry, Kaidan, I forgot.  Of course, you must be very familiar with the benefits of drill, then.”

   “Personal discipline, all the way down the line,” he agrees.  “Loss of control is not an option.”

   “ _The commanding officer is aboard,”_ announces the VI.  “ _XO Shepard stands relieved. Captain Anderson has the deck_.”

   I grin at Alenko.  “Better go check in with the old man.  Thanks for the welcome, Kaidan.”

   “My pleasure.  Welcome aboard, Shepard.”

 

 

 “I miss Kaidan,” Liara remarks as she helps me sit up.  “He was such a kind, and gentle person.”

   “He was,” I agree.  “He would have hated this war.  Hated the injustice, the cruelty. We all do, but it would have cut Kaidan deeply.”

   “Goddess, he was so young,” Liara observes.  “He seemed older, being so calm and collected, and because I always looked to him for advice, but seeing him like that, so excited to meet you...”

   “You never got the chance to meet Jenkins, did you? He made Kaidan seem reserved on the topic.  God, it was embarrassing.  Poor kid.”

   “He was the soldier you lost on Eden Prime, wasn’t he?”

   “Yeah.  The Normandy’s first casualty.”  I look around the locked room.  “Still no exit, huh?”

   “Whatever your mind is wrestling with, it’s none of those things.  Still, we do seem to be working forward in time.  Stick with it.  We’ll get to it, whatever it is.”

“Hey, as long as you keep initiating melds by kissing me, I can play this game as long as you like,” I grin.

Liara smiles as she leans closer.  “Something for everyone, then.  Embrace eternity!”


	10. Surviving Spectres

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liara

When Glyph’s report is prepared, what little there is makes grim reading. Nothing from Earth or Rannoch, fragmented reports of casualties from Thessia and Palaven, with numbers so great as to be beyond comprehension.  Reports from Thessia are on the city scale; Armali, Serrice, Dassus, Ulee, each all but destroyed. The asari’s unique governmental system has worked to our advantage; despite the dreadful casualties and the devastation of major population centres, society will not collapse, as it has on Palaven or Earth. Leaders are still embedded in the local communities that they serve, and cooperation is our way of life. Analysing my limited data, I identify several communities with cohesive communications and complementary resources.  If we can restore the Normandy’s communications, I may be able to link the groups up.

   Satisfied that there is some surviving life on my homeworld, I detail Glyph to begin conducting analysis sweeps of the Normandy’s surroundings, to determine if there are resources we can use for repairs or supplies. With no further useful information to be had for the moment, I power down my workstation, and head across the crew deck towards the starboard observation lounge.

   Ashley will be angry, no doubt about that.  She is so capable in so many things, but controlling her emotions has always been her biggest struggle.  Ashley’s tendency to speak her mind and damn the consequences has always intimidated me; Shepard called it “wearing her heart on her sleeve” when she was amused by it, and “a perfect pain in the ass” when irritated by it.  

 _Goddess, I’m thinking of her in the past tense already_.  Anger at my subconscious betrayal stiffens my spine a little, and I limp determinedly into Ashley’s little retreat. The second human Spectre has not been seen much, as Chakwas informed me, preferring to brood in sullen solitude and wither the ears of anyone who dares breach her sanctum (a tactical sit-rep from Garrus).  Shepard snorted with irritation, right in my aural cavity, upon hearing that, but she is not here, so it is left to me to “kick Williams up the ass until she starts behaving like an officer again.” It is her considered opinion that it is down to Ashley to get the _Normandy_ back in the air, that Ashley is responsible for all of us getting home.  When I observed that this was quite a burden, she arched an eyebrow at me.  “Walk a mile in my shoes.”

   Put like that, I can see Shepard’s point, but I am not at all looking forward to _kicking Williams up the ass_.  For one thing, I cannot be sure she will even listen.  I am not her favourite person, I never have been. Always, there is a friction between us, as though Ashley feels we are in competition for something.  For a while, as we ended our campaign to take down Saren, and in the month afterwards, we were doing better, but since she rejoined us, I have felt that our relationship has been reset to the beginning. Nonetheless, I care about her, I owe her my life, and Rachel was… _is_ … very fond of her, so I am prepared to try. 

   Lieutenant Commander Williams has her back to the door, an uncharacteristic lapse of trained paranoia. Normally, she will be found with her back to a wall, able to see all comers and all exit points, a learned behaviour trait that she shares with Shepard.  I rap my knuckles against the bulkhead to announce my presence; it is never wise to startle a Spectre. (A lesson that I learned after sneaking up on Shepard in her quarters one time. Although, the outcome in that instance was _most_ gratifying — once I regained consciousness).  “Ashley?”

   Ashley stiffens at the sound of my voice, then her shoulders slump, and she turns her head to regard me.  She looks awful, pale and gaunt, as though she has neither slept nor rested.  Her left arm is slung across her chest and there are numerous smears of high-vis medi-gel decorating her face; in another time and place Shepard would have teased her about her “war paint”.  I cannot.  My relationship with Ashley lacks the confidence for flippancy.  “How are you feeling?”

   “Not so bad, Doc, thanks.” She makes an aborted gesture with her broken arm.  “Feel a bit helpless with this, y’know?”

   I lift my crutches, careful not to lean my weight on my leg.  “I do.  I couldn’t outrun a volus.”

   A tiny smile flickers at the corner of Ashley’s mouth, but it’s extinguished before it can spark properly.  The pain she’s feeling is easy to read in her face, in her posture; the survivor once again, she’s feeling guilty. 

   “Doctor Chakwas is worried about you,” I continue, limping over to the couch and sitting down beside her.  I toss my crutches across the room, beyond my reach, a clear inference that if she wants me to leave, Ashley will have to physically remove me from the room.  And with a broken arm, she can’t, not without my co-operation.

   “I’m fine, Doc,” she responds curtly, staring out at the rock wall beyond the viewport.

   “You’re not fine.  How can you be?  No one else is.”  I reach out to take her good hand, squeezing her fingers.  “Ashley, I’ve seen this look in your eyes before.  After Virmire.  You’re not to blame now, any more than you were then. ” _It’s the right choice and you know it, Ash!_   Kaidan, still capable of touching me after all this time.

   Ashley looks down, but she does not pull away from my grip. There is an aeon of guilty silence, and then, barely audible: “I left her.”

   “She ordered you to.”

   “That’s not an excuse!  She needed help.  I could have gone with her.  Why’d she leave me behind?  Didn’t she trust me? God, I know I behaved like an ass before, but I really thought she knew she could count on me to do this last, hardest of all things.  I would have died for her.”  Tears begin to leak from her eyes.

   “She knew that, Ashley.  She didn’t want you to die for her, any more than Kaidan wanted you to.  And she trusted you completely, without shadow of doubt.”

   “How could you possibly know that, Doc?” Ashley asks bitterly. 

   “Three reasons.  One: she ordered you to get the _Normandy_ to safety, asked you to protect the people under her command.  Not Garrus, not Tali, not me.  You.  _You_ were the one she entrusted with her crew, her ship.”  I release her hand, wrapping my arm around her shaking shoulders.  “Two: she told you to take me with you, trusted you with the life of the person who meant more to her than anyone.  She took me on that last mission because there was no one else she trusted to keep me safe; in the end, when I could not continue, you were the one she turned to, relied upon.”  Tears sting at my own eyes now, as Ashley’s sobbing intensifies.  “And three: Rachel wa... is my bondmate. Her soul and mine are intertwined, our knowledge, memories and experiences shared.  Every thought, every emotion, if we so choose, can be laid open to our bondmate, through the meld. Shepard chose to share everything with me, and I with her, and I know how she felt about you, as well as I know how I feel about you.  And if you will trust me, Ashley, I can show you.”

   Ashley looks at me, need, uncertainty and curiosity warring in her eyes.  “How?”

   “If you will let me meld with you, I can share those memories.  I would take nothing from you, look at nothing; I can guarantee your privacy.”

   “You’d do that... for _me_?” She is shocked.  “Why?”

   “Because Rachel loved you.  Because I am your friend, no matter that we do not always agree.  And because you need to forgive yourself and ‘get up off the mat’.  The Normandy needs a Spectre in command if we are to achieve the impossible and return home.  We need you, Ashley.”

   Ashley stares at me for a long moment, then smiles shyly and pulls me into a hug.  “Thanks, Liara.  I’m sorry I haven’t always been the friend I should have been to you.  I’ll do better, I promise. For both of you.” She sits back, rubbing her hands over her face to clear her tears. 

   “Don’t you want to see?” I ask, confused by her withdrawal. She smiles, and shakes her head.

   “I don’t need to.  What you said, and just the fact you are ready to offer me such an intimacy so soon after...” She puts her hand on my shoulder.  “No, Liara, I won’t put you through that. You have too much pain to deal with without taking mine on board as well, and I can hear Shepard in your words.  I do trust you, don’t doubt that, but this is enough.  More than enough.”

   “If you’re sure, Ashley.”

   “I am.  And call me Ash, Doc.  Like the rest of my friends.”  She takes a deep breath.  “So, we have mission impossible to achieve?  Better get to it, then.”

   “Ash, if I may, you’d be better getting something to eat and some sleep first.  You look awful.”

   “Thanks,” she drawls, but I can see the smile in her eyes.  She stoops to retrieve my crutches, and helps me to my feet.  “Noted, XO, thanks for the kick up the ass.  I’ll check in with Chakwas, get some chow and some rack time, then I’m going to get us the hell off this rock.”

   “Understood, LC.” I do my best to salute, and Ash laughs as we head for the medbay.


	11. Starting Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard

The morning after our dramatic rescue of an asari damsel in distress, I wake up without a headache for the first time since Eden Prime. Even if the beacon’s message is still gibberish, the meld with Dr. T’Soni has at least produced one positive result.

   Actually, make that two positive results.  It’s apparently possible, even within a restricted knowledge melding with an asari, to pick up some hints as to character and intention. I'm now sure that our Prothean archaeology specialist is exactly what she appears to be, innocent of any involvement in Saren’s plans beyond his desire to take custody of her.  Whether the geth on Therum were sent by him, or by Benezia, is moot at this point.  Clearly our adversaries believe the doctor can help them, and so the safest place to keep her for now is right under my nose. Now I just need to convince her of that.

   I grab a quick breakfast in the mess, noting our latest addition to the crew’s absence, then do my morning rounds.  Alenko is happier with his platoon make-up and readiness since the addition of Williams to the crew, and Garrus has been assisting with training and drill. Adams is pleased with the ship’s performance and delighted to have Tali helping out on his team. Joker is still in love with the Normandy, and I have to check him for exceeding maximum flight hours, again. Grenado has concerns about the power draw to the main battery, and asks permission to take the armaments offline to run some tests. I direct her to co-ordinate with Adams.

    Pressly and Williams have no operational issues, but both are unhappy with the number of aliens on the boat.  They both try to dress their unease up as security concerns, but I suspect the truth, particularly in Pressly’s case, is somewhat more unpalatable.  Don’t get me wrong, everyone’s entitled to an opinion - even if it’s not mine - but this humanity first crap makes me want to scream.  Sure, we have to look out for our own interests and make sure we can protect ourselves, and it’s hardly all sunshine and roses beyond the Charon relay, but do people really not see what opportunities co-operation with the other races can bring us?  Already, the Normandy is a better ship for the presence of a turian, a krogan, and a quarian aboard; hopefully our new asari will be just as much of a revelation.  Judging Williams to be the one I have a better hope of getting onside, I chew her out as far as I can without resorting to disciplinary language, and she’s bright red with embarrassment by the time I direct her to co-ordinate the weapons drill schedule with Garrus. It’s not quite kissing a turian, but it’s close.

   Pressly is another matter.  A veteran of the tail end of the First Contact  War, and a man who’s spent much of his career locked in border skirmishes with the Batarians, all of his experiences of aliens have been hostile, and he’s had twenty-five years longer than Williams to harden his opinion.  I won’t get him to budge with reasoned argument, but I try it anyway.  I don’t like using my authority to bludgeon people into obedience, but in the end I have to quietly remind him that it’s my ship, my responsibility, and that I’ve given my orders.  He huffs at this, but is too disciplined an officer to raise further objections.  Disappointed in spite of myself, I make my way down to the med-bay for my last check-in of the round.

   Dr. Chakwas greets me with a cheery smile.  “What’s this?  Voluntarily stepping across my threshold, Commander?” she teases.

   “I figured I’d try and get into credit before I have to make any more withdrawals,” I rejoin dryly.

   “Smart thinking, at the rate you consume my supplies.” Chakwas looks me over with brisk professionalism, running her omni-tool down my torso. “How’s your head this morning?”

   “A lot better, thanks.  Seems like that melding process worked.  It’s only a pity I still can’t make much more sense of the visions.”

   “Well, perhaps it’ll require a repeat prescription,” Chakwas observes, checking my pupil reaction with a penlight. “You clearly got a much better night’s sleep.”

   “First time I’ve slept right through since Eden Prime,” I admit.  “So, everything OK down here, Doc?”

   “Absolutely fine, Commander.  Everyone who was on the shore party yesterday is fit for duty; Chief Williams was a little dehydrated, but aside from that there are no issues.  You got out of the volcano just in time.”

   “Always a good idea, I find. What about our newest addition to the ship’s complement?”

   “Dr. T’Soni?  She’s still a little malnourished and dehydrated, but I’ve given her some electrolytes and some emergency ration tubes.  If she takes those in addition to regular meals, she should be right as rain.”  Chakwas frowns.  “Though come to think of it, I didn’t see her leave for breakfast.”

   I look around the med-bay in surprise, but I don’t see the asari.  “She’s still here?”

   Chakwas nods.  “In the lab.” She gestures to the rear of the room, where an open door leads to a small ante-room.  “I had a cot set up.  Poor thing seems quite shy and nervous, so I didn’t think assigning her a crew pod was necessarily a good idea.  She can stay in there as long as we have her aboard - it’s no trouble, and she’s already offered to help me out with routine analysis.” The doctor beckons me closer, lowering her voice.  “To be honest, I think she’s a bit intimidated.  She went out to the mess last night, and she came back very quickly, looking quite flustered.  I don’t know that anything was said, but she’s used to spending a lot of time on her own, so this is all bound to be quite overwhelming.”

   “Well, if you’re OK with it, it’s fine with me. Hell, we have a krogan sleeping in the Mako, a quarian with a hammock, of all things, down on the engineering deck, and a turian bunked in the main battery compartment.  Why not an asari in the lab?”

   Chakwas laughs softly.  “I must say, Commander, your attitude to having all these aliens aboard is refreshing. You seem to be one of the more open-minded people I’ve worked with.”

   “I make it a point never to turn down qualified help, Doc,” I dismiss the compliment with a grin.  “It means I only have to do half the work to look as good as I do.”

   “If you say so, Shepard,” the doctor chuckles, clearly not believing a word, and I bump her shoulder companionably as I move past her to the open lab door.  Knocking on the frame, I clear my throat loudly before speaking.

   “Dr. T’Soni?  Can I come in?”

   “Of course, Commander.” 

   Dr. T’Soni is seated at the lab bench, reading at a workstation.  She turns her chair and smiles at me as I approach, and I’m struck again by how pretty the young researcher is.  “Commander, are you coming to check up on me?”

   _Well, yes, but only with the best of intentions_. “You look much better.  How are you feeling?”

   “Dr. Chakwas assures me I am going to be fine.  I was impressed by her knowledge of asari physiology.”

   “You’re in good hands.  The Doc knows what she’s doing.”

   The asari nods.  “Commander, I never properly thanked you for saving me.  If you hadn’t shown up, the geth would have killed me or dragged me off to Saren - or I’d have starved to death in that stasis field.” 

   “You’re very welcome. I’m just glad we got there in time.”

   “So am I.  And I know that you took a chance in bringing me aboard - I am also grateful for that.”

   “What makes you say that, Doctor?”

   She blushes, and lowers her gaze to stare at the floor.  “I have seen the way your crew looks at me.  They do not trust me.”

   I frown.  “Has someone said something to you?  Dr. Chakwas said you came back from the mess a bit upset last night.”

   “I... no, no one has said anything to me, but they were staring, and whispering, and it was...uncomfortable.  But then again, I am not human, and I have spent so much time alone on dig sites - perhaps it is an overreaction on my part.  As I said, I am not used to dealing with your kind.”

   “Don’t worry, I’ll straighten the crew out,” I promise, irritated by the stupid predictability of pack curiosity.

   “I don’t want to cause trouble for anyone,” T’Soni protests shyly.

   “You’re not.  I’ll give them a friendly warning, and those that don’t heed it will be sorry.” I try to smile reassuringly.  “At any rate, it’s my problem, not yours, so please don’t worry about it.” 

   “But if I am only staying aboard for a few days, it hardly seems worth the trouble.”

   I scratch at my neck nervously, then force my hand down into the pocket of my combats. “Yeah, I wanted to talk to you about that. As yet, I don’t know why Saren wanted you. Maybe as a bargaining chip, maybe there’s something he thinks you know, maybe Benezia wants you where she can keep an eye on you.  Point is, he’s been a Spectre for a long time, and he has a lot of contacts on the Citadel and throughout Council space.  And I’m sure your mother has people on Thessia.  We can’t guarantee your safety if you leave, so... I think we’ll all be a lot better off if we bring you along with us, at least until we know a bit more.”

   To my surprise, T’Soni nods agreement. “I can’t think of a safer place than aboard your ship, and maybe my knowledge of the Protheans will be helpful.”

   “It already has been, so I’m confident on that score. And you’re a natural biotic, right?  Are you trained?”

   “I am trained, yes,” T’Soni replies.  “I have little actual combat experience, but I can protect myself.  Sometimes my digs are in less than friendly areas of the galaxy, and it has occasionally been necessary to discourage people’s attentions. I could do with practice, but I will do whatever I can to help you stop Saren.”

“Don’t worry, Doctor.  I know you won’t let me down.”  Wow, did I really just say that?  It’s true, but a little more candid than I intended.

   “Thank you, Commander. Your trust means a lot to me.  And please, call me Liara.”

   “Liara,” I confirm. “OK.  I’ll talk to Lieutenant Alenko about some biotic drills - I’m sure he can learn from you as much as vice versa.  Basic fitness is at your own discretion, but I’ll want you to be able to keep up on ground missions.  You also need to get up to speed on safety, evac and hardsuit drills - I’ll speak to Lieutenant Chase about that. Do you have any firearms training?”

   “Basic pistol marksmanship, but I’m certainly rusty. It’s been years since I fired a gun.”

   “That’s fine.  You can train with me for that.  We’ll get Chief Williams to set you up with a suit and some weapons once I’ve assessed your abilities.”  Liara drops her eyes at the mention of the Gunny - something happened between them last night, I’d bet my bottom credit.  “Now, about straightening the crew out.  I find leading by example is usually a good start.  Dr. Chakwas tells me you haven’t eaten yet this morning, and I could do with a mid-morning snack.  Care to join me to eat?”

   Liara nods timidly, and follows me out onto the crew deck and across to the galley.  I help her pick out something she can eat, then sit her down with her back to the rest of the mess, so I can sit opposite and gauge reaction. As I suspected, there is a great deal of staring and muttering going on, more so than any of the other aliens endured when they came aboard, and it is noticeably more hostile than with Garrus, Tali, or even Wrex.  Rumour of Liara’s association with Benezia has gotten round, it seems. I ignore it for the moment, focusing on trying to make Liara feel comfortable, idly chatting as we eat about differences in foodstuffs and how crap the autokitchen is.  But when Lieutenant Alenko and the Gunny step into the room, I sense an opportunity.  “Hi, LT, grab a pew!” I call to Alenko, gesturing to the seat beside Liara.  Kaidan nods agreeably and wanders over to accept the invitation, but my attention never leaves Williams, my best command stare boring into her from across the room.  The Gunnery Chief flushes scarlet, drops her gaze, and scuttles over to the far corner of the mess, out of immediate range of my displeasure.

   “Everything OK, Shepard?” Kaidan asks as he seats himself.  Still watching Ash, I nod.

   “Fine, Kaidan, just exercising a little command theory.”  I switch my attention to him and smile.  “Now, I wouldn’t dream of asking you to rat, but if I were speaking hypothetically, is it feasible that there could have been some sort of lower deck discussion regarding the loyalties of certain new additions to the crew, and their theoretical trustworthiness?”  Liara blinks, a confused frown settling across her features, and Kaidan’s expression turns mournful. 

   “It’s feasible, Shepard, yeah.  Obviously, I couldn’t say for sure, though.”

   “Course not.  Although I’d imagine you’d be as disappointed as me to find out that was the case.”

   “Absolutely,” he agrees adamantly.

   “And I’d be even more disappointed to learn that the ringleader of that hypothetical bull session was a certain newly acquired armoury specialist of our mutual acquaintance.”

   Kaidan shrugs with his eyebrows.  “You should never ignore your instincts, right, Shepard?”

   “Indeed, Kaidan.  Thanks.  OK, relax,” I hold my hands up, “I’m done torturing you for intelligence.  Matter of fact, what I really wanted to talk over with you was setting up some sort of training plan with Liara.  Strikes me that the two of you could learn from one another.”

Kaidan smiles enthusiastically.  “Oh, sure, that’d be great.  I’ve read up on asari techniques, but never really had the chance to put the theory into practice.  If I had a proper teacher...” He grins at Liara, and his infectious good humour has the asari smiling back in seconds.

   “I would be honoured to train with you, Lieutenant,” she offers.

   “Kaidan, call me Kaidan, please.  May I call you Liara?”

   “Please do, Kaidan.”

   “Great. OK, so how about...”

   I leave them to it, getting up and walking round the edge of the mess to my cabin.  As I reach the doors, I turn to survey the whole room.  Chief Crosby is sitting closest to me.  “Chief, get their attention, will ya?”

   “Aye aye, ma’am.”  Crosby clears his throat.  “Commanding Officer on deck... ten-hut!” he roars.  Cutlery clatters and seat legs squeal in protest as every rating and officer in the mess stands and snaps to.  Liara looks around, astonished, and half makes to rise as well, but I wave her back down.  Garrus, who by coincidence has just arrived, flares his mandibles at me in the turian equivalent of an eyebrow raise, but he stays, leaning against the stairwell wall to watch.

   I wait.  The silence drags, and before I reach ten in my mental count-off, I can see the guilty faces.  I let my count reach twenty, then clear my throat.  “Let’s get one thing straight, here and now, people.”  I take three steps forward, moving into the light so everyone can see me.  “Everyone has a perfect right to a point of view, and a perfect right to a bull session in which to express it, no matter how ludicrous it may seem to other people. For example, my friend LaFlamme here,” I drop my hand on the Petty Officer’s shoulder, “is adamant in his judgement that the Dolphins have some kind of hope of winning the Superbowl this year, despite it being obvious to everyone else that the Patriots will whoop their sorry asses.”

   Nervous laughter; they’re not sure of where I’m going, too edgy to relax fully; right where I want them. “Now, I know there’s bound to be a lot of opinion on this mission; it’s like nothing most of us have ever seen before, myself included.  Opinion and speculation go with the territory, but what I will not tolerate is rumour-mongering about fellow crew members.  Each of us has a past, a history.  Each of us has something that bothers us, something we’re maybe ashamed of.  I know I do. I’ve read your service files, every last one of them, and I know some of your issues, some of your problems, some things that would humiliate some of you very deeply.  I don’t talk about them to other people, because it wouldn’t be right. It wouldn’t be fair of me to make you pre-judge one of your teammates for circumstances that might have been beyond their control. It’s not fair of you to do it either.  To say nothing of it being rude, thoughtless, childish, and undisciplined. I’m disappointed.  I expected better of you.”

   I pause, noting a few squirms rippling across shoulders.  Ash is approximately the colour of a beetroot, although her shoulders are perfectly still.  “So.  My point. I want the gossip canned.  Next person I hear speculating on the personal business of any member of this crew will have their ass out the airlock at the nearest available port. I want a disciplined crew of dedicated professionals. This is an Alliance warship seconded to serve the Galactic Council, not an extra-net gossip chatroom.  _Am I crystal clear_ , ladies and gentleman?”

   _“Sir, yes, sir!”_ Emphatic, from every voice in the room.

  “Excellent.  I judge each and every one of you by your actions aboard this ship and nothing else.  Kindly extend to your crewmates the same simple courtesy, and don’t let me down again.  As you were.”

  I walk back across to sit with Kaidan and Liara, and Garrus joins us, grinning.  “Wow.  Remind me never to piss you off, Shepard.  You’re scary when you channel your inner angry CO.”

   Kaidan nods agreement.  “Nicely done, if I may be so bold,” he remarks.  “I felt guilty, and I hadn’t done anything. I’ve taken some notes.”

   Liara looks mortified.  “That’s your idea of a friendly warning, Commander?”

   I grin.  “Sure.  I wasn’t armed.”

   Kaidan and Garrus laugh, and after a moment, Liara joins in.  Satisfied, I get to my feet.

   “OK, I have work to do.  Catch you guys later.”  As I cross the mess, Ash intercepts me. 

   “Skipper, I just wanted to apologize... I was out of line earlier, and last night.”

   I arch my eyebrows at her.  “This is not related to earlier, Ash, that’s done and dusted.  If something happened last night, well, no one’s told me anything, so maybe I’m not the one you owe an apology to?”

   Williams nods slowly.  “Yeah, I guess so.  Thanks, Skipper, I had my head up my ass.  I need to go fix this.”

   “Carry on, Chief.”


	12. Beyond Repair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liara

I find Tali in the engine room (where else), engrossed in a bird's nest of circuitry spread all over her workbench and dangling down onto the floor. She is muttering at the components, a withering monologue on their intractability, fickle behaviour, possible irregular parentage and general inability to perform their intended function, peppered liberally with little _bosh'stets_. It is a scene so entirely _Tali_ that I can't help but smile; somehow, in all of this chaos, she has kept her centre. Possibly this is her coping mechanism, to lose herself in the world of tech, but somehow the brief glimpse of how things should be lifts my spirits a little. "Hello, Tali," I greet her quietly, not wanting to startle her.

I fail. "Oh, Liara!" she gasps, dropping her tools and turning towards me. " _Keelah_ , I didn't even realise you were up and about." She steps forward, opening her arms, but then hesitates. I take the choice from her, hobbling forward and into her embrace. Her suit smells of ozone, engine grease, hot plastic, and, very faintly, Garrus, and I smile into her shoulder as she squeezes me tightly. I am pleased that my friends have found happiness together, even if jealousy at how they must be feeling in this time of new love cuts me like a ragged knife.

"What are you working on?" I ask as she sets me carefully back on my feet and I shuffle to the bench to lean against it.

An amplified sigh echoes from her suit. "EDI. I'm trying to figure out what happened. This is part of her memory core, I removed it this morning. It looks intact, and the code is good, but I need to check the rest of the cores. Whatever caused her to fail - whatever that red beam was - it _must_ be fixable. However advanced she is, she's still a machine. It might not restore her back to her full capability, but even half-way would be a start." She looks at me for a long, silent moment, inscrutable behind her mask. "But don't tell Joker. Unless I can really do something, it wouldn't be fair."

"I won't," I agree, reading the unspoken words in the silence. _I wish I could fix things for you too. That bringing Shepard back was as easy as checking code and memory cores._

Tali is still watching me, and after a moment, she reaches up to the base of her mask. "This is probably a bad idea, but..." She presses a button, and with a soft pneumatic hiss the mask comes away. I hold my breath as she lifts the purple visor clear of her face, and for the first time I'm looking at her face, seeing her eyes, her shy smile, and she's so _very_ beautiful. "Liara," she says softly, her voice warmer and richer, stripped of the suit's pickup reverb, "I just don't know what to say. Sorry isn't enough."

"There are no words," I reply simply, stepping close to her again and granting the greatest comfort I can bestow, stroking her cheek gently with my palm. Her skin is warm, warmer than Shepard's even, and very soft. Tali can't help herself; she nuzzles into my touch, sighing softly, revelling in the sensation. I lean in and press a kiss to her forehead, then break her hold on my wrist. "I don't want you to get sick." Lifting her mask, I slot it carefully back into place, and she seals it again with a slow, reluctant gesture.

"Thank you, Liara," she says, squeezing my hand. "I'm here if you need to talk."

"I know, Tali. I hope you know that I would gladly do the same for you."

"I do. I do, I just... _Keelah_ , how is it possible that I miss her more than I miss my own father?"

Moved by Shepard's insight and my own, I settle myself back against the bench. "Your father loved you, but he had a hard time showing it, I would guess, constrained by his rank, his responsibilities, by the fear of showing too much favouritism. My mother was much the same, particularly when I became older; her expectations forever drowning out her affection. But Shepard... had no reason to hide how she felt about you, about your abilities, your cares, or how much you meant to her. Tali, she thought of you as a sister. She loved you, and she was free to show it."

Tali's head bows, and a sniffle escapes her mask. "You should have seen her blaze away at the Admiralty Board at my trial. No one had ever said anything like that about me before. I felt so special, so... loved. But… ah, _keelah_ , listen to me, telling you how great she was. Of all people, you'd know that best." She pats my hand, too hard, her suit pickup no longer hiding the tears in her voice. "You always know just what to say, Liara. I hope it's not too presumptuous of me, but - we all knew how much Shepard loved you. Towards the end, we could all see that you were what kept her fighting, when everyone else would have given up. She wanted to save the galaxy... for you. It's so unfair that after all this, she's... she's gone. She deserved to be happy, and so do you."

Tears swamp my vision, and steal my breath as Tali's words strike a harmonic with the feelings I know are Rachel's, swirling in my mind. Quickly, I recall the persona of the Shadow Broker, cold and aloof, emotionless. _Lock it down, Liara_ **.** I will not add to Tali's burdens by breaking down on her. Choking off the groundswell of grief, I pat Tali's shoulder mechanically, and retreat to Shepard's cabin as fast as my mangled leg will allow.

And suddenly, she's there. I can smell the citrus perfume she likes, sharp and tangy, the fresh smell of a clean BDU, a hint of perspiration. Her arms are around me, protecting me. "It's OK," she murmurs against my crest. "You need to deal with this. You need to let it out. Let it go."

My shell cracks, just that quickly and I fall sobbing into her embrace, dragging her to the floor. "I can't let you go," I protest, voice torn with anguish.

"I didn't say let me go. You can't, in any case. Not yet. But you can let go of that charade, that cracked mask you're trying to put on. It doesn't suit you, Li. What you said to Tali just now, that compassion, that love, that's you. That's why I love you. Don't retreat from that, don't go back to what you nearly became on Ilium. I couldn't bear for you to become that, not again. Not because of me." The pain in her voice is acute. "Christ, Li, if I'd known, I'd have..."

"What? Not died?" It's a low blow, but suddenly my anger is stoking, flaring up. My emotions are running wild, and the blue-white crackle of unfocused biotic power begins to wisp along my arms. Irrationally enraged, I remember her cheap crack at my anguish in trying to explain how much her death had crippled me. " _I got better_."

"I was going to say, I would have come for you sooner." Her arms slacken and she sits back, crossing her legs and resting her hands on her knees as she watches me. "I know it would only have been weeks, but..."

"But that time would have made the difference?" I half-snap, half-sob as I sit up. "You were _dead_! It was bad enough then, when I knew you less well, when we were still new to each other, but now... G-goddess, this is infinitely worse! You made me a promise, Rachel Shepard! And this time, I can't... I can't... I..." Words fail me, and I throw myself at her, knocking her to the floor as I capture her mouth in a savage kiss and her mind in a savage meld _. I can't help you. I can't save you. I'm not there for you_ **.** _I love you._ _I want you back_.

 _Don't blame yourself, Liara_ , her voice soothes. _It was my choice, and everything I have accomplished, I have accomplished because of you._ _You helped me stop Saren. You took me back after two years and in so doing gave me the chance to know you better, to love you more. You gave me a reason to rebuild my life rather than throw it away on the Collector base, and to endure the fallout from my actions at Aratoht. When the Reapers attacked, finding you was the only thing that mattered to me more than saving Earth. And with you at my side, I was able to do the impossible. Cure the genophage. Ally the Turians and Krogan. End the war between Geth and Quarian. Bring down Reapers in single combat. Finish Cerberus. And whatever happened after that, we had a fighting chance because of you. I may have carried the galaxy, but you carried me. You did enough, more than enough, and you deserve to see the galaxy heal and grow again in peace. I can only hope I did what I had to do. I'll love you forever._

She picks me up and carries me to the bed, then lays down beside me, fingers intertwined with mine. Slowly, my sobs ebb, my energy drains, and I pass into a tortured sleep, safe in her embrace.


	13. The Greatest Misery is a Battle Gained

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard

Noveria's about the coldest place I've ever been, which is saying something since my N7 survival training was at Scott-Amundsen Base in the Antarctic. Even a hardsuit doesn't keep out the cold completely, and our welcome from the locals is as frigid as the climate.

However, the chill of the glacial environment and the unease engendered by the hostility of the locals are nothing compared to the freezing ache in my gut that seeing Liara weeping over her mother's body provokes. Focused on the rachni queen and her macabre mouthpiece, the immediate aftermath of the Benezia's death escaped my notice, but the shock of reality hits me like a bucket of ice water as I turn from the empty containment cell to the tragedy behind me. I killed Liara's mother, right in front of her.

It was pure reflex, training and instinct taking control. Benezia threw me into the safety railings with enough force to crack my hardsuit plating and dislocate my shoulder. I damn near pitched off the platform, whacking my head off the rail and losing my rifle as I went down. Tali caught me just in time and pulled me up, still punch drunk from the impact.

As I lurched back into the fight, the only thing I saw was the danger to Liara, Benezia standing over her, hands glowing with building power as Liara's last barrier flickered and failed. One of my squad was in trouble, and my brain didn't need conscious instruction to act, pulling my sidearm and firing. Somehow, I managed to stop myself from taking the headshot, somehow some part of me recognised that I should try not to kill her, but luck is a perverse bastard sometimes. Benezia, perhaps aware that she had not eliminated me completely, turned toward me just as I fired, and the shot aimed for her shoulder slammed straight through her chest. Dead centre of the ten-ring. It would have killed a human outright, and I was amazed, as I dropped to my knees at Liara's side, that the matriarch was still breathing. Despite my frantic efforts at first-aid, she died mere moments later, losing a fight that I had desperately wanted her to win. Not simply for the mission's sake, for the intelligence we could have gained from turning her away from Saren, but for Liara's, to protect her from the awful reality that her mother has been taken from her. Taken from her by her friend.

By me.

I take a deep breath, wincing as sharp pains slice into my lungs. I've cracked some ribs, no question, and my shoulder is shrieking at me now that my combat high has dissipated a little. Grimacing, I choke back the groan of pain that wants to escape, and move gingerly over to where Tali is sitting forlornly on a half-smashed packing crate. "Tali, thanks for catching me back there. You OK?"

Tali nods. "I'm fine, Shepard, no damage, but _Keelah_... poor Liara..." There are tears in the quarian girl's voice as she watches our squadmate mourning. "Shepard, we need to do something for her."

"We will," I assure her, trying to pat her shoulder and failing as pain shrieks through my arm and chest. "Ahhh, fuck...Tali, if you're OK, I need you to go back to the main facility. Call the Normandy, and Captain Matsuo and let them know the threat is contained and we need medical evac for the facility staff. We'll need a mortuary casket as well. Get hold of Garrus and Lieutenant Alenko and tell them to get down here as fast as they can, and to bring Dr. Chakwas with them. I'll help Liara."

"You don't look so good yourself, Shepard," Tali worries.

"My suit can deal with some of it, Tali, but the... the sooner the others get here, the better."

Tali nods. "OK, Shepard, I'm on it. Hopefully there are no more giant acid-spitting spiders roaming the halls." She looks at Liara a moment longer, then trots off down the corridor to the tram terminus, shotgun primed. I watch her go, then make my way back to Liara's side. The young asari is clasping her mother's head to her chest, rocking her gently, sobbing uncontrollably. I feel sick with guilt; I should have left Liara on the Normandy. There was a high risk of this mission ending with Benezia's death, and I should have been firm enough to deny Liara's request to be on the team.

But without Liara's presence, Benezia might never have broken free, might never have been able to tell us Saren's plan. And Wrex or Kaidan could never have held that biotic barrier as long as Liara had; if I hadn't brought her the whole shore party would have been wiped out by the commandos. For a moment I hate myself for rationalising the way I've inflicted this pain on Liara. She deserves better. But playing coulda woulda shoulda with myself isn't achieving anything. Liara needs help. I kneel down beside her, trying not to scream as my ribs jab my lungs. I put my good hand gently on Liara's shoulder. "Liara?"

Liara shrugging my hand off is the only response I receive. "I... Mother, I... I'm so sorry," she sobs, fingers running mechanically along Benezia's crests, over and over again in what looks to be a gesture of comfort. "Please forgive me. Forgive me."

"Liara." I try again, more firmly. I grip her shoulder, lean in so she can't throw me off. "Liara, she's gone. You have to... let her go."

"No!" Liara's cry echoes forlornly around the cavernous lab. "I can't... I won't, I..."

"Please, Liara." I keep my voice even and calm. "There's nothing you can do for her now. You have to let her go."

"I can't!" Liara wails. "Goddess, she's my mother! I won't leave her here!"

"We won't leave her here," I agree, releasing my hold on Liara's shoulders and grasping her chin, twisting her around to face me. "Liara, look at me, listen to me." The asari stares through me, struggling against my hold, and I tighten my grip. "Liara, look at me. _Look at me!_ " After a long moment, her eyes focus, and finally I see recognition spark in her gaze. "Liara, it's all right," I soothe. "We will take her with us, I promise. We will make sure she's sent home to rest. You can take her home, if you want to. But right now you need to let her go, lay her down. C'mon, Liara, just lay her down."

"Shepard," she whispers brokenly, pleadingly. "Shepard, I... please help me."

Liara's trust undoes my self-command, and tears sting my eyes at the misery writ in every inch of my asari friend's face. I did that to her. I made her feel that way. I had no choice, but still... Feeling like the lowest heel in the galaxy, I shift around to Benezia's other side and hold the matriarch with my left hand behind her neck, allowing Liara to release her grasp. The sudden weight of Benezia's body jars my ribs and popped shoulder, and I can't help the scream that tears from me at the sudden, knifing pain. It's welcome, deserved, and I grit my teeth as I gently lower the matriarch to the grating and brush her eyes closed. Squeezing my eyes shut to force the tears blurring my vision down my face, I start as I feel hands on either side of my head. Liara is looking at me, her sapphire blue eyes wide with anguish. "Are you hurt? Shepard, are you all right?"

I nod weakly. "I'm fine, Liara."

"You screamed, and... Athame's grace, you're b-bleeding," Liara stammers, scrambling across her mother's body to reach my side. I touch my temple and my fingers come away bloody.

"I just need... to sit down for a minute." Liara helps me, resting my back against the crate Tali was perched on before. My upper body is afire with pain; my head is starting to pound. There's something ticklish crawling down past my eye. I can't feel my arm, but that's such a familiar problem that it's almost a comfort. "I've cracked my ribs, popped my shoulder, and I hit my head," I manage to say, but my tongue feels thick, suffocating. "I'll be OK." The ache in my head is intensifying with each second, I'm shivering and I feel sick. "Got a... hard head." Adrenaline crash.

"Oh, Goddess, Shepard, please...don't you leave me too," Liara begs desperately. "Don't leave me alone here."

"Never," I murmur, "but... I need... your help. Come here." I pat the grating beside me, and Liara obeys, sitting down at my side. I wrap my left arm around her shoulders, and flex my wrist to activate my omni-tool. "See where... it says diagnose and treat? Hit the t-tab."

Liara does so, and within seconds my suit has dispensed medi-gel and a cocktail of painkillers and epinephrine to postpone the comedown. With the danger of passing out averted and the edge taken off the pain, I draw Liara a little closer. She rests her head against my good shoulder, and together we hold wordless vigil over her mother until Dr. Chakwas, Garrus, and Kaidan arrive to take us home.

 

“Oh, Rachel.”  Liara’s voice brims with compassion as she squeezes my shoulder.  “You still blame yourself for that?”

“Of course,” I confess quietly, looking at the ceiling of our little Cerberus-branded prison.  “I killed your mother.  No matter how you rationalise it, I took her from you.  It may have been for the best, but I know that doesn’t make it any less painful. I hurt you, and I will always regret it.”

“You saved my life.  She would have killed me,” Liara reminds me gently, brushing her knuckles against my face.  “And I would never have known your love.”

   “And I would be dead too, because you wouldn’t have been around to figure out Ilos, or to save me from the Collectors and so on.  I know all that, but… I just hate to see you in pain.”

   “I know.”  Liara hops up to sit beside me, laying her head on my shoulder. “Do you want to keep going?”

“I’d like to sleep for a while, if that’s possible,” I admit.  “I’m tired.”

Liara lays me down, and curls up next to me, running her fingers rhythmically through my hair.  “Sleep,” she instructs.  “I’ll watch you.”

Closing my eyes, I drift off into the welcoming dark.


	14. Someone to Watch Over Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liara

My dreams take me to the evening after our mission to Noveria. I am alone in the lab, fighting a losing battle with my grief. The door to the medbay opens, but I pay no mind to Dr. Chakwas' sudden conversation, nor do I care to determine the identity of her guest.

"Liara?"

Shepard's voice is soft and, for the first time I can recall, unsure. I can imagine what's going through her mind. No matter the justification, she has just killed my mother, and she cannot be sure I will even speak to her. So far I have rebuffed Dr. Chakwas and Lieutenant Alenko in their attempts to offer me comfort. Neither of them were there. Neither of them can comprehend. But Shepard was there. Battered, bleeding, and concussed, it was Shepard who'd somehow retained enough presence of mind to take the fatal shot as my mother's possession drove her toward me, wreathed in biotic flames, intent on crushing me to a pulp as my last, exhausted attempt at a barrier flickered and died. Shepard saved my life, saved my mother from indoctrination, stopped my mother from murdering her only child. In spite of all that, my mother is still gone, and just cause does not balance the loss, but I cannot blame Shepard, not when her only thought was to protect me.

"Liara?" she says again, and I realise I haven't responded, lost in my thoughts.

"Commander, what can I do for you?" Part of me so desperately wants to run to her, this human who has become my protector, to ask shamelessly for the comfort of an embrace from someone who cares for me. We have never discussed it; instinctively I feel that Shepard does care, but I do not think I am well versed enough in human body language or culture to make any assumptions. So I opt to keep things professional, or as close as I can manage.

Surprisingly, I see a flash of hurt and disappointment, quickly masked, in Shepard's expression as she advances a cautious pace into the lab. She has left the door open, I notice, so that I do not feel trapped, pressured. "I... I just wanted to check on you, to make sure you're... that you have everything you need. Today must have been terrible for you. I can't imagine what you... Liara, I'm so sorry for your loss. I'm sorry... that I couldn't do anything to help your mother." Goddess, she blames herself for this, for not being able to bring my mother back? If I could not do it, what chance did Shepard have? But I remember the warmth, the fervour in her voice as she tried, squeezing my mother's hand, pinching her cheeks and nose, looking deep into her eyes; entreating a wounded comrade, not an enemy. " _Benezia? Shit, stay with me. Focus on my voice. C'mon, think of Liara, of your home, a lover, anything that keeps you from the dark. Keep your goddamn eyes open and talk to me! You hear me, Benezia? Get your shit together, T'Soni, come on! Fight it! Don't you give up, don't you fucking quit on us like this!"_

But my mother was either unable, or unwilling, to heed the commander. I suspect the latter, but now I will never know. Grief at my loss assaults my composure once more.

Shepard shifts her weight awkwardly, and I realise I've done it again. Gotten so distracted by my thoughts that the silence has stretched into acute discomfort. The commander looks tired, sapped of her usual verve and energy. "Yeah, so anyway, Liara, if you need anything, if you need to talk, um, I'll be glad to help. If I can. But I... I'll let you rest." She pauses for one more discomfited moment, left hand massaging her right shoulder, then turns and steps out. I hear a brief exchange with the doctor, then the hiss of the medbay door.

Misery overwhelms me, and before I quite realise what I am doing, I am running from the lab, through the medbay and across the crew deck, nearly bowling Kaidan over as he tries to intercept me. I burst through the door to Shepard's quarters, tears blurring my vision, and only dimly make out Shepard's surprised expression as I cannon into her, sobbing. She flinches at the impact, but she catches me, bracing her weight. Her arms close securely around me and I bury my face in the warmth of her neck and cry until I can't breathe. Shepard does not speak - there are no words appropriate to such grief - she simply holds me, rubbing one hand soothingly up and down my back, until the initial storm abates, then she guides me gently to the couch. She settles me, and then sits beside me, drawing me close and wrapping an arm around my shoulders. I lean into her, resting my head against her shoulder, mirroring our earlier contact in the ruins of the research labs on Noveria. "Shepard, I'm sorry," I whisper.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Liara," she replies firmly. "Nothing at all."

"I need you to know I don't blame you," I tell her. It's important that she understand this. "It wasn't your fault, Shepard, please believe that. My mother chose her own path, as I have chosen mine."

"Maybe," she dismisses the thought, "but right now, you don't need to worry about me." She moves a hand up to stroke my crest gently, and I shiver at the touch. "Shhh, Liara, rest. I'll be here as long as you need me."

Wrung out by grief, lulled by the soporific warmth of Shepard's body and the rhythm of her touch, drowsiness overwhelms me. My eyes slide closed, and as I drift off I hear myself murmur, "I need you." There is a slight pause, then Shepard's fingers resume their gentle measure and I fall asleep in her arms for the first time.

When I awaken, I am in Shepard's bed. Fully clothed save for my boots, with my collar unzipped, cocooned in a carefully constructed nest of soft white sheets. The commander is nowhere to be seen. I find her an hour later (having first taken the opportunity to use her shower and broken fast), sitting in the medbay with her shirt off. She winks at me over the doctor's head as Chakwas carries on her check-up of the Spectre's injuries. Her torso is a mass of bruises, mottled blue, purple and black all over, courtesy of a biotically propelled impact with the safety railings in the labs. Feeling guilty at seeing the pain my mother has inflicted, I break eye contact, ducking past the humans into the comparative shelter of the lab. My attempt to hide is short-lived; Chakwas is apparently satisfied with Shepard's health, and before five minutes have elapsed the commander is leaning against the doorjamb behind me. "How are you, Liara?"

"I'm fine, Shepard, as well as I can be." I offer her a smile, feeling suddenly shy. "Are you recovering from your injuries?"

"Doctor Chakwas seems to think so, and I'm inclined to trust her judgement. I'm a little sore in the ribs, but it's more annoying than anything else." She pats her side gingerly. "Good thing I heal fast."

"Yes, it is good. If I hurt you last night, when I..."

"You didn't," Shepard assures me. It's a bare-faced lie, but I take it at face value.

"Oh. Good. Shepard, thank you for last night. It was kind of you to take the time."

Shepard returns my smile. "It was no trouble. I'd like to think that if something happened to my mom, one of my friends would be there for me." She frowns slightly. "But speaking of injuries, I recall you taking a bit of a pounding from that last commando. Has the doc checked you out?"

"Yes, Dr. Chakwas has cleared me for duty. I am better if I can keep busy."

"OK," Shepard accepts my reasoning. She advances a pace into the room. "When we reach the Citadel, I can make arrangements to have your mother's body transported home. Or, if you want to go with her, we can take you both to Thessia."

"I couldn't ask you to do that," I protest. "Your mission is too important."

"Screw the mission," Shepard blurts out. Surprise flickers in her eyes, and then, to my astonishment, Commander Shepard, the Council Spectre, _blushes_. "I mean, uh... it's not that far, and it won't take long. We can resupply on Thessia just as well as we can on the Citadel." She looks me in the eyes. "And it would mean you had an extra few days to decide if you want to leave." Her voice is much quieter, much more uncertain as she says this.

"Leave?" I repeat, stunned. The commander arches an eyebrow in confusion.

"Yeah. I'm sorry, Liara, I assumed you would want to attend to your mom's funeral, and that you would need some time to grieve, get your thoughts together. You've had a terrible shock, and I'd understand if I was…well, painful for you to be around."

"I hadn't even considered it," I admit.

"Oh." Shepard fidgets uncomfortably, hand straying up to rub at her neck. "Damn, I'm not handling this very well, am I? I don't want to pressure you, this is your choice. I'd understand if you want to go home, is all."

"There's no rush," I observe, and Shepard's eyebrows lift in surprise again. "You do not know asari burial customs?"

The commander shakes her head.

"For a normal person, a maiden, matron, or even some matriarchs, it is usually a quick and simple process. But my mother is…was… one of the foremost matriarchs of the Asari Republics, Shepard, a leader and a teacher with many dozens of acolytes and many hundreds of adherents. When a matriarch of such standing passes the veil, it is customary to allow her followers time to visit the body, to pay their respects. So any funeral for my mother, given the size of her following, will not take place for months."

"Oh, OK, I get that now. But… for yourself… don't you want to go?"

I consider this for a moment. The idea of running home to Thessia is tempting, but in reality what awaits me there is nothing but grief and loneliness. My estrangement from my mother separated me from the rest of the family as well, and I do not relish the idea of the conversations with my aunts and cousins that will inevitably arise. They will accuse me of not doing enough to mend our relationship, and they will be right to do so. Athame forgive me, I am not ready to face that. But more than this coward's avoidance, I realise that I _like_ being on the Normandy. After the first few days, the first few missions, I have simply been adopted as one of the team, one of the crew. I like that Chief Crosby calls me "Pretty Blue", that Private Tucks blushes violently every time he sees me, that Warrant Officer Bakari always keeps a little extra pasta aside for Kaidan and I after missions. I appreciate that the others on the ground team have come to respect my skills, I delight in my erudite conversations with Dr. Chakwas, but most of all I enjoy the time I get to spend with our commander. Shepard has been so kind to me, and I do not relish the idea of stepping outside of her company or her protection. And we have a purpose, one more important than anything I have ever encountered. It might be selfish, but part of me understands that this is potentially one of those moments where history is turned down one path or another, for good or ill, and I want to be here, be part of that. My mother, of all people, would understand that; she acted on the same impulse when she sought out Saren.

"I don't want to go," I admit softly. It occurs to me then, belatedly, that the situation may be awkward for Shepard, if she feels I may blame her for Benezia's death, regardless of what I might have said last night. She might be hoping I'd leave of my own accord. "Do you... want me to leave?" I ask, holding my breath.

Shepard shakes her head adamantly, immediately. "No. No, I don't want that. I'd really like you to stay, but what I want is not relevant."

"It is to me," I assure her. "Shepard, I do not blame you for what happened. My mother's death lies at Saren's door, not yours. I don't feel awkward in your company, you are not making me uncomfortable. Yes, I am upset, and yes, I am angry, but not with you. Please believe that. I want to stay here."

"All right." Shepard reaches out to take my hand in both of hers. "You're more than welcome to stay. Liara... I'm here for you, all right? Don't suffer alone in silence. If you need someone to talk to, anytime, day or night, promise me you'll come find me?"

I intend to reply with a comment about her dedication to her crew, but the remark dies as I look into her eyes. This is no simple commanding officer's concern for a subordinate's welfare; she truly does want me to bother her. Friends, she said. Have I become Shepard's friend? Is that what this is, this connection I feel? Slowly, I place my free hand over hers and stroke her knuckles lightly with my thumb. "You are a good friend, Shepard. Thank you. I promise, I will bother you."

"Good." Shepard lets my touch linger a moment longer, then slowly withdraws her hand. "I should go." She turns and walks to the door, then looks back. "You know, the best of your mother lives on in you, Liara - her determination, her intelligence, her strength."

Before I can muster a response, she is gone.

When I wake in her bed, in the grey moments just before dawn, she is still gone.


	15. Blackguards and Gentlemen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard

There's a surreal quality to our situation on Virmire. Somewhere so beautiful should be the last place you would find something as ugly as Saren's cloning facility. Standing on the beach at the STG camp, I let my mind meander for a moment to how nice it would be to be here for personal reasons, enjoying the scrubbed white sand, warm aquamarine seas and endless sunshine. Mom would love it; she loves to sunbathe, making it a point to make sure that she gets at least three days by the pool in a Carribean resort any time she's dirtside on leave.

But right now I have bigger problems than the jarring discrepancy of our surroundings with our purpose. I have an angry Krogan to talk down. Squaring my shoulders, I follow the snaking stream of water up the beach to where Wrex is aimlessly discharging his shotgun into the water, over and over, the noise echoing irritatingly off the wall of Saren's compound. I glance back over my shoulder to see Ash watching intently, and even at this distance I can see she's tense. She meets my gaze and nods, drawing her pistol. I really hope it won't be needed, but I am not stupid enough to confront an angry krogan battlemaster without a plan B. If Wrex decides that I'm no longer worth the cost of following, things could get real ugly, real quick.

Wrex grunts an acknowledgement as I close, and pauses in his random pot-shots at the beach. I wait patiently for him to start. "This isn't right, Shepard," he growls eventually. "If there's a cure for the genophage we _can't_ destroy it."

"Hey, I understand why you're upset," I reply, "but we both know Saren's the enemy here, right? He's the one you should be angry with."

Wrex glares at me. "Really? Saren created a cure for my people. You want to destroy it." He laughs sourly. "Help me out here, Shepard. The lines between friend and foe are getting a little blurry from where I stand."

"It's not a cure, it's a weapon," I point out, "and I shouldn't have to explain that to you, Wrex."

He takes a menacing step forward, looming over me. This close, his presence is overwhelming, but I stand my ground. Backing off will make him think I'm weak, and I can't afford that, not now, not ever, not with a krogan. "Indulge me," he spits, his breath a warm, rancid blast against my face. "I've been loyal to you so far - hell, you've done more for me than my family ever did – but if I'm going to keep following you, I need to know we're doing it for the right reasons." Snake-quick, he swings his shotgun towards my midriff; the sudden move trips my own reflexes, and I'm suddenly aiming my pistol right between his eyes.

"Wrex, these krogan are not your people," I say firmly, calmly. "They're slaves of Saren, _tools_. Is that what you want for them, for all your people?"

Wrex curls his lip in a silent snarl, but doesn't react further, clearly thinking. He narrows his eyes, and we wait a tense ten…fifteen…twenty seconds before he sighs. "No. We were tools for the Council once, and to thank us for wiping out the Rachni they neutered us all. I doubt Saren will be as generous." He drops the muzzle of his shotgun, and I lower my pistol. "All right, Shepard," he growls, "you've made your point. I don't like this, but I trust you enough to follow your lead. Just one thing – when we find Saren, I want his head."

Weak-kneed with relief, I nod. _Thank Christ for that._ "That's a promise, Wrex. Thank you."

He chuckles darkly. "Yeah, yeah. Tell Williams to settle down – she doesn't need to shoot me in the back today."

I signal Ash, and the Chief holsters her pistol, nodding to Wrex as if to say "just business". "Couldn't risk you going all blood rage on my ass," I offer by way of apology. Wrex barks with laughter, and clouts me affectionately across the shoulders, staggering me into the stream.

"You've got a quad, Shepard, no doubt about that. See you later." He ambles off toward the STG supply tent, doubtless to acquire new clips to replace the ones he has squandered. I watch him for a moment, then splash down the stream away from the wall to where Liara is sitting on a crate in the shadow of the Normandy's landing gear, concealed from Wrex's view. As I approach, the asari's concerned frown eases a little, though not completely, and the biotic glow rippling around her fingers dissipates.

"Shepard, that was a little too close for my comfort," she complains as soon as I reach her. "When he brought the shotgun up, I really thought he was going to kill you. I was a split-second from throwing him halfway to the Mako."

"I'm glad you waited. I don't think that would have made him any happier. But still, thanks for the back-up." I sit down beside her. "It would have worked a treat. He was so focused on Ash and I that he'd never have seen you coming, and biotics were by far the best option for keeping him alive." Did I say never confront an angry krogan battlemaster without a plan B? I meant without a plan B _and_ C. "Could you really throw him that far?" I ask curiously, and Liara blushes.

"Yes. I mean, I think so. With all the practice I have been getting in lately, my control allows me to tap deeper reserves than I could previously. Of course, Wrex is much heavier than most geth, but I am confident in my assessment."

"Well, now I want to know if you're right. Should I go and goad him into trying to kill me again, so we can find out for sure?"

"I am sure that would be most unwise. Wrex is still not…" Liara trails off as I burst out laughing. "Oh, Goddess, you were joking." She pushes me off the crate playfully, starting to laugh herself. "You are most unkind sometimes, Shepard."

I grin up at her. "I'm sorry, Liara, it was too good an opportunity to pass up." I lift my hand in a plaintive plea for assistance, and she stands and catches it, hauling me easily to my feet, armour, weapons and all. "At any rate, thanks. I felt a lot safer with you watching my back."

Liara chuckles. "It's strange to consider myself protecting you, rather than the other way around, but you are welcome."

"OK, then, we should go and talk to Kirrahe – we need a plan for taking this place down. Preferably without any further cultural complications."

* * *

 

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Liara asks softly as we surface from the meld for a moment.

"Yes," I confirm. "Whatever memory I'm hiding from, it won't be pleasant. If I'm to accept it, I need to condition myself by reliving some past pain."

"I just hate to see you hurting."

"As long as you're with me, I can bear it." I suck in a deep breath. "All right, let's get it over with."

* * *

 

We were so close to getting away with it.

With the nuke in place and Sovereign approaching rapidly, we were cutting it fine as I led my Shadow team up towards the AA turret to relieve the diversion crew, but I'd no sooner reached the top of the facility when a second geth dropship spewed its murderous offspring all over the bomb site. Both of my officers were now horribly compromised.

Caught between two mutually exclusive goals, the realisation that I cannot save both of my crew members hits like a punch to the gut. I feel winded and sick as the realisation connects, that I must sacrifice either Alenko or Williams to achieve my objective, and it's a choice I don't dare get wrong. _Kaidan or Ash_ , my conscience whispers as my marines squabble over the comms, _stop trying to distance yourself_. Gritting my teeth, I make my decision. "Williams, radio Joker and tell him to meet us at the bomb site."

Ash's voice is broken as she responds. "Ahh… yes, Commander. I…"

"It's the right choice and you know it, Ash!" Kaidan declares, not even a hint of anger in his voice.

"I'm sorry, Kaidan." My tongue feels like lead. "I had to make a choice."

"I understand, Commander. I don't regret a thing."

Swearing sulphurously, I unship my rifle and lead Liara and Wrex back down to the gate, dispatching the geth swarming the site with a murderous hail of weapons fire and dark energy. Williams is down, back to the bomb, bleeding profusely from a bad leg wound but holding her rifle steady. Before I can check her, Saren appears, launching himself into the fight, almost taking my head off with his first shot. Ducking into cover, I try to talk him down, but Sovereign has already taken hold of him, far more subtly than it did Benezia, but just as completely. If I can't talk him down, I'll have to provoke a conflict – we don't have time for a monologue.

Signalling Liara and Wrex to be ready, I step out into full view of the fallen Spectre, the man I have replaced as the galaxy's sworn shield, drawing on my numerous conversations with Garrus for inspiration. "You stupid motherfucker, you're like every other poor bastard in this place," I taunt. "A tool Sovereign can use and then cast aside. And you're a coward, running to the enemy at the first sign of a hard fight, betraying everything a real Turian would stand for. So fuck you, you treasonous son-of-a-bitch, I'll be happy to do the job you aren't warrior enough to take on. "

Saren, predictably enraged by my deliberate goading, attacks, and the sheer ferocity of his assault catches me off guard even though I am waiting for it. He crashes into me, clawing my pistol away, grappling and gouging, using biotics to fling Liara away as she charges recklessly from cover to try to help me. Distracted by seeing the asari crash to the ground and lie unmoving, my hold on Saren slips and he grabs me round the throat, heaving me into the air. Strangling, I flail helplessly in his grip, scrabbling for breath. Wrex roars a battle cry, prelude to a charge, and it's Saren's turn to be distracted. Clenching my fist, I summon all my remaining strength and smash a punch right into the Turian turncoat's eye. Howling, he drops me as the facility's warning siren begins to wail.

The Normandy's coming.

Diving into the water, I retrieve my pistol as the other Spectre evades Wrex's charge and flees, sensing his opportunity is lost. "Wrex, get Liara, now!" I yell as I stumble to Williams. The timer on the bomb is still counting down. Six minutes. Hoisting Ash onto my shoulders, I watch the krogan help a dazed Liara to her feet, and we stagger aboard the Normandy, crashing to the floor on the cargo bay deck as Joker pulls up into a climb. "Joker, get us the fuck out of here!" I bark, and the hull reverberates with a deep roar as the pilot red-lines the engines. Liara crawls over to me and takes my hand, gripping it tightly.

"All right, everybody hang on!" Joker warns superfluously.

I count off the time to detonation in my head, and when I reach zero, only one thing matters to me.

Kaidan is gone.


	16. Hero Worship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liara

I find Specialist Traynor sitting dejectedly on the bunk in Diana Allers’ former quarters; the reporter was embedded on one of the shuttles in Hammer squadron, one of the many that failed to report in for the final assault.  She and Samantha had become quite close, and guilt gnaws at me for ignoring another who shares my pain.  "Samantha?"

   “Oh, Dr. T’Soni, hi.” Sam sniffs and wipes a hand hastily across her cheek to scrub away her tears.  “Did you need something?”

   “Liara,” I remind her.  “I thought I’d come and see how you were doing.”  I settle myself beside her on Diana’s bunk and lean my crutches against the wall.  “I haven’t seen you since the crash.”

   “I’ve been trying to keep busy,” Sam admits, not meeting my gaze.  “There’s a lot of repairs to be done.”

   “I was sorry to hear about Miss Allers,” I tell her gently.  “I know how you must be feeling.”

   Anger blazes in Traynor’s eyes suddenly.  “Really?” she snaps, her tears starting afresh.  “We don’t know for sure that Shepard’s dead, but Diana’s gone, so forgive me my feeling that it’s not quite the same thing.”

   My sympathy for the young specialist intensifies, and I reach out to grip her shoulder. She reminds me so much of myself three years ago, naive, enthusiastic, awed by my surroundings and my companions, overwhelmed by events. “Samantha, I... Shepard... she died once already, and even though she was eventually restored to me, for two years I mourned a loss that was, to my mind, irrevocable.  We’d had had so little time...”

 

_I’m standing alone on the frozen surface of Alchera.  My breathing echoes hollowly around the confines of my hardsuit helmet. I’m not used to the encumbrance, and the reduced field of view makes me edgy.  How does Rachel stand this, I wonder, and then I remember why I’m here. My eyes sting with sudden tears as my chest clenches and I gasp for air. But I have to see.  I have to know. Forcing myself to start moving, I wander through the wreckage of the Normandy, unable to equate the tortured, scorched skeletons of metal with the graceful, powerful vessel I was just starting to think of as home. I see what remains of the galaxy map console, the snapped end of the guard rail thrust into the ground like a broken spear. I see the Mako, defiantly perched atop a pedestal of rock as if daring me to challenge its indestructibility.  Re-entry and crash landing have barely even scratched the dreadful thing._

_I search for hours, drifting among the wreckage, finding mementoes and keepsakes from many of the crew, even some of my own belongings, but nothing of Shepard’s. One of the shots from the beam weapon must have sheared right through her... our... cabin._

_As darkness falls I make my way slowly back to my rental ship, a two-man relay hopper, dejected by my failure even though I have no real idea what I was looking for, hoping for.  I have discovered only one thing; that Shepard is truly gone._

_Then I find her, only to lose her again..._

“Liara!” Traynor’s voice snaps me back to reality, and as my vision focuses I see the specialist standing close to me, one hand on my shoulder, peering at me worriedly.  “Are you all right?”

   “I am fine, Samantha, thank you. I was just remembering.”

   Sam blushes slightly as she draws back.  “I’m sorry, Liara, I shouldn’t have said what I did, it was thoughtless.  Of course you know what I feel like.  It’s just... Shepard is so... larger than life, it’s impossible to imagine she’s really gone.  It just feels like she’s away, with Javik and those big Krogan on the shore party, kicking the arse of some poor bastard who richly deserves it.” Her voice cracks.  “H-how can someone like that just be dead?”

   “Too easily,” I reply softly.  “It happens in the blink of an eye, in the space between one breath and the next.”  I catch her hand to stop her withdrawing too far, and pull her closer.  “I’m so sorry, Sam.  I didn’t know Miss Allers... Diana very well, but she was well liked by the crew, and she gave hope to so many who were fighting.”

   “It’s not Diana,” Sam admits hoarsely, tears flowing in earnest now.  “Or, not just Diana.  We were close; we’d only just started sleeping together.  We were having fun, and it hurts that she’s gone, but... but...”

   “Shepard was the one you really loved,” I finish for her as I wrap her in a hug.  I’ve known about Sam’s infatuation for a while, suspected it from the moment I saw her clap eyes on Shepard for the first time. 

   Traynor squeaks in guilty surprise. "You _knew_?”

   Her astonishment brings a smile to my lips. "It was fairly obvious, Sam. You are not the first person this has happened to. I am... familiar with the signs." Again, I see my younger self in Sam's predicament, fascinated by someone who seems to shine so much more brightly than you do, overwhelmed by their kindness in noticing you, treating you like a crewmate, friend, confidant. Flattered that their interest in you and your dull life seems genuine. Head over heels in love when you realise that yes, it is genuine, and this person, this hero, this _goddess_ , cares about you. Beyond saving when you discover that _she loves you too_.

   "You're... not angry?" Sam asks nervously.  "I mean, if she was my girlfriend I know I'd be jealous as all hell about her."

   I give Sam a reassuring smile. "No, I am not jealous. I know how Rachel feels about me. One of the advantages asari have over humans - when you have seen into your bondmate's soul, you quickly come to understand their feelings." Even though this is completely accurate, it is not completely honest; I am in truth intensely possessive about Shepard, an ugly side to my feelings that shames me slightly, but, perversely, pleases Shepard no end. I suddenly remember her unholy glee at my getting carried away one night and leaving her with a number of "hickeys _"_ after she had been propositioned three times in Purgatory _. Ooh, Shadow Broker, marking your territory? Commander Shepard, property of Dr. Liara T’Soni._   But Sam's crush is no threat, and she is a friend, not some predatory maiden working a bar for casual partners.

   "It must be beautiful," Sam says wistfully, "to know that you are really loved.  I mean, I know you can be told, and people's actions are a guide to their feelings, but you really do know how she felt about you. It must be a comfort."

   "It is beautiful.  And it is both comfort and curse.  For every extra amount of joy in being together, there is an equal share of pain in being apart." I do not wish to share my emotions with Sam; she is fragile enough already.  She cannot bear my burdens on top of her own. She needs reassurance, comfort.  "Shepard cared about you a great deal, Sam.  You may have joined us late, but you've given your all, and because of your contributions we were able to finish the Crucible and save the students of Grissom Academy. You're one of the legends of the Normandy now, and you've discovered our secret.  We all do what we do, aspire to be better, because of our love for Shepard, a love that was returned in kind. She was so proud of you."

   Sam sniffs, and blinks at me through tear-clouded lashes.  “That’s so kind of you to say, Liara.  Thank you.”

   “It’s the simple truth, Sam.”  I release her and sit back against the wall.  “Dr. Chakwas commented on it the other day, and she’s right.  Shepard aside, none of the Normandy’s crew were noteworthy when she recruited them. Ashley was a grunt, an exceptional soldier but crippled by self-doubt and harsh treatment.  Wrex was a merc, just another Krogan thug prepared to kill for credits.  Garrus was a C-Sec officer with authority issues, a rebel bordering on being a vigilante, Tali was a frightened girl on her pilgrimage caught in the crossfire between Saren and the Shadow Broker, Joker was one court-martial away from being kicked out of his seat.  Kaidan was probably the only one was even remotely close to the mould of a hero.”

   “What about you?”

   “Me?” I smile wryly.  “What would you imagine?”

   “A matriarch’s daughter, an elite among the asari, a formidable biotic, and a commando.”  Sam blushes a little.  “Beautiful, smart, and very, very dangerous.” 

   I can’t help but laugh.  “Oh, Sam.  Have you never asked any of the others how we met?”

   “I know Shepard rescued you from a geth attack,” Sam confirms, looking bemused.

   “It’s true that I am a daughter of matriarchs, and yes, the T’Soni clan have long been considered among the elite of our people, but I was very much a...” I fumble for the human idiom, “blank sheet?”

   “Black sheep,” Sam corrects with a wry smile.  Somewhere behind me, Shepard snorts with laughter.

   “Yes.  I had no interest in influence or politics or diplomacy, and no interest in those activities that normally define an asari maiden.  My mother’s acolytes made sure I was trained to defend myself, more with biotics than with weapons, but study was my passion, and my rebellion.  When Shepard and I first met, I was an archaeologist and nothing more, a shy, insecure young woman barely old enough to be called such, awkward around others of my own race, far less any aliens, and acutely conscious that I would never live up to my mother’s expectations.  And I had been trapped in a Prothean security device for three days straight, so I was somewhat less than glamorous, believe me.”

   Traynor stares at me.  “I can’t believe that, Liara.  You’re so... well, you’re just so _asari_. You’re the bloody Shadow Broker, for God’s sake!  And you’re beautiful, witty, and confident, you can throw Vega around with your mind and you’re a combat specialist on Commander Shepard’s ground team.  In fact you and Garrus are probably the most lethal people in the universe after Shepard!”

   I blink in surprise.  I certainly do not consider myself even close to Garrus in terms of combat mastery, nor to Wrex, Ashley, or Lieutenant Vega.  “I think you might be overestimating my skills, Sam.”

   “And then there’s that- that disarming self-deprecation that’s so damnably alluring,” Sam continues, and then she blushes.  “Oh, bugger, I’m doing it again.  I’m sorry, Liara, but... it is true.”

 _She has a point_ , Shepard agrees, a mischievous whisper in my ear. _You’re all kinds of sexy._

  “So you don’t believe it’s possible that I changed that much in so short a time?” I push on, ignoring Shepard and hoping to ease Sam’s embarrassment.  I’m too well acquainted with how she must be feeling.

   “Frankly?  No.”

   “Well, how would you have described yourself when you came aboard?”

   Sam purses her lips as she considers this.  “A lab rat.  Nervous around authority figures. Comfortable with tech, slightly geeky, but not so geeky as to be completely hopeless with relationships.  Hopeless, but not completely hopeless.”

   I nod.  “All right.  And now - are you the same person?”

   She frowns, and then smiles slowly.  “No.  I guess I’m not.  I’m more comfortable with speaking my mind to my superiors, more confident in my own abilities, better at what I do... I see where you’re going.”

  “I knew you would.  Shepard took an interest, treated you as a professional, trusted you to do your job, and was there to provide advice and support whenever you needed it.  I see a big change in you, simply from being under Shepard’s command.  And that’s how we became the crew of the Normandy.”

   “But it’s more than that with you,” Traynor objects.  “Assuming you were as shy and retiring as you say, the change is stratospheric.”

   “It is more than that with me,” I agree.  “It is love, and loss.  I fell head over heels in love with Shepard.  It coloured everything.  I worked hard at my biotics anyway, but when Shepard rescued me and immediately accorded me trust and respect, it became overwhelmingly important to me to be worthy of that kindness.  So I worked hard, learned combat skills from Garrus, from Ashley, from Wrex, from Shepard. I augmented my tech skills working with Tali. I improved the scope of my biotics with Kaidan and Wrex.  I learned first aid, and a great deal about humans, from Chakwas. And when Shepard told me my feelings were reciprocated, the boost to my confidence was remarkable.  I felt that I could achieve anything, so long as she was with me.  And when I lost her...” my voice cracks as my grief rears up...

 

_“I have something for you, Doctor T’Soni.” Miranda Lawson sets a large carry case on the deck between us and backs off a pace._

_I flip the case open, and my heart jumps as I realise what I am looking at. Scorched and punctured it may be, but I would recognise Shepard’s N7 body armour anywhere.  And draped across the top of it, a set of Alliance-issue dogtags._

_Reverently, I lift them, and sure enough, Rachel’s name and details are stamped into the thin metal.  I run my gloved fingers across the surface, and the memory of touching them, warmed by her skin, the sound of them clinking as she makes love to me breaks my heart all over again.  Sobbing, I turn away from the Cerberus officer, clutching the ruined armour to me as though somehow it can connect me to my lost love.  It takes a long time for my tears to cease._

_When they finally do, Lawson is still watching me, and her expression is a mix of curiosity and sympathy.  “You obviously care a great deal more than you led the Illusive Man to believe,” she comments._

_“I loved her beyond reason, Miss Lawson.  I cannot express in mere words what Rachel Shepard meant to me. If that is something your Illusive Man can use against me at a later time, I really do not care. No doubt you will gain credit from enlightening him,” I retort, by now heartsick of this place and these people, who know nothing of Shepard, want nothing save a pawn to further their interests. Who view the ruined corpse in the capsule as some kind of technical challenge, a tool to be repaired and set to use._

_“I don’t think he needs to know,” Lawson replies in an oddly subdued voice.  She fusses with her datapad for a moment, then gestures to the open carry-case on the floor.  “You can use that to transport your keepsakes.  Do you want to be kept informed of our progress?”_

_I consider the offer for a long, long moment.  “Thank you, but no.”_

_“You believe we’ll fail?”_

_“You believe you’ll succeed?”_

_“I’ve never failed at anything I set my mind to in my entire life, Doctor,” Lawson sniffs.  “I don’t intend to start with Commander Shepard.”_

_“Commendable, but I do not wish to live with false hope. I do not believe what you are about to undertake can truly work.” I place Shepard’s armour and dogtags into the case, snap it shut, and nod to the Cerberus officer.  “Goodbye, Miss Lawson, and good luck.”_

_Only once I am safely aboard my purloined ship do I sag against the wall, drained by the encounter. What I told Lawson is true, but it is not the whole truth.  I do not really believe, beyond a slender margin at the edge of hope, that what Cerberus proposes can be done.  If it can, Shepard will come back to me if she chooses.  If it can’t, I lose her forever anyway. Either way, I am better to resign myself to the loss, with an outside chance of a miracle, than to wait for the miracle and be disappointed.  I am also acutely aware that Shepard loathed Cerberus and everything they stand for.  It is entirely possible that if they succeed and I maintain a connection, they will find a way to use me, use my care for Shepard, or her care for me, to coerce her.  Far better that she be free to comply or rebel without fearing the consequences. Far better that I remain uninvolved._

_Sticking to that plan almost cost me everything when the miracle finally did occur, two years later..._

 

   Sam reaches out to grasp my hand, bringing me back to the present.  “Liara, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...”

   “It’s all right, Sam.  It’s difficult, but it needs to be said. When I lost her, at first the pain drove me to training as a displacement, and then, as I was drawn down an ever more dangerous path, the loss spurred me to ensure I could protect myself. My confidence hardened, at the expense of empathy and compassion.  I am lucky that Shepard returned to me - I was so far gone that she was the only one who could unlock that shell.”  Tears sting my eyes as the realisation strikes that I stand at the same crossroads now; Rachel has been taken from me again, and I do not know if I have the strength to avoid repeating my mistakes.  “And when I had her back, there was balance, and you see the result of that now.  Loss tempered by love. Pain tempered by joy.   Everything I am has stemmed from either loss or love.  Either way, everything I have become is due to Shepard’s influence. If not for her, I would have been an indoctrinated slave of Saren.”

 _And if not for you, the one person more precious to me than life itself, that would have been the fate of everyone in the galaxy_ , Shepard murmurs.

   “Liara, are you all right?” Sam asks, and I realize I am blushing, staring off into space.

   “I’m fine, Sam.  So there you have it.  The Shepard Effect, if you must call it something, is what makes the crew of the Normandy.  A crew that includes you.”

   Sam nods.  “I think I understand that a little better now.  Thank you, Liara.  It was kind of you to come and talk to me.”

   “If you need to talk, anytime, Sam, I am here for you,” I reply.  “Shepard may not be with us, but the principles she lived by remain in force.  At least, they do for me.”

   “Aye aye, ma’am,” Sam agrees, snapping off a jaunty salute.


	17. Cold Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard

Saren’s base of operations is a nuked crater, an ugly scar marring the tropical perfection of Virmire.  The krogan cloning facility is gone, a victory paid for with the lives of Lieutenant Alenko and fully two-thirds of Captain Kirrahe’s STG squad. Despite my words to Ash in the medbay not one hour ago, my resolve to do better is hollow comfort.

   I have ordered soldiers to their deaths before. At Elysium it was my platoon gunny, Chao, the long-suffering babysitter who’d taught his boot LT what it really meant to be a soldier.  The man who’d run my platoon for me, guided my decisions, shown me what leadership was all about.  The man I’d been good enough friends with to suggest spending shore leave on a paradise planet, doing some relaxing by the pool with beers between recreational bouts of running, shooting, and humping the boonies. The man I ordered to create a diversion by assaulting a platoon-strength pirate gang to buy me time to get to the communications tower and call in the cavalry.  I had to be the one to go to the tower; as an officer I was the only one with a high enough security clearance to access the comm system.

_Chao claps me on the shoulder and yells in my ear. “Make me proud, LT.  Show me you understand what it means to be a Marine!”_

_Tears blur my vision, but I nod tightly.  “Give ‘em hell, Gunny.  Keep those bastards busy as long as you can.  Semper fi!”_

_Chao grins at me, bumps fists with me one last time.  “That’s my girl, LT.  End of today, what’ll we be?”_

_“Big damn heroes, Gunny!”_

_“Oo-rah! Get your ass on the fuckin’ ready line, LT.  When I give the word, Marine, you go, and don’t look back! You get me?”_

   Gunnery Chief Chao Yan received a posthumous Star of Terra that day. I was inconsolable for months afterwards; there’s nothing in the world more pathetic than a Marine LT without their gunny.  A good NCO is an officer’s salvation; it’s one of the reasons I am so glad to have Ash with us. But Chao’s sacrifice taught me the price of civilisation, and set the standard of service that I strive to meet: _Marine, your life is not your own; you fight like hell to keep it, but if it is required of you that you lay it down, that’s the deal you made when you signed up_. 

   On three further occasions, I have had to order men and women under my command to carry out an objective that had fatal consequences.  Jenkins was technically a combat casualty; a fine distinction, and one that does not, in my mind, absolve me of responsibility. Vashi, Rodriguez, Jenkins. Alenko.  You never get over it. Each one haunts you, eats at you. If you’d seen the danger earlier, scouted a little more, been braver, faster, smarter... In reality, and you know this intellectually, there is often nothing you could have done, but it doesn’t stop you blaming yourself.  Jenkins died because he was an impulsive kid promoted too early for being eager, made careless by grief at seeing his home on fire.  There was no way for me to anticipate his rash advance from cover, but I still feel I should have been able to stop him.

   And now Alenko has joined my list.  Poor, kind, gentle Kaidan, with his courtesy, his empathy, and his skull-busting migraines. A better human being I have never met; he’d seemed to me to be too good to be a soldier.  What a _pointless_ fucking waste. My temper is beginning to boil, slowly but surely, as the shock wears off and the anger begins to bite.

   I don’t doubt my decision; I made the right call.  The Chief’s position with the nuke had to be secured; we couldn’t risk the bomb being defused, and leaving the Chief to be swarmed would have given Saren a window of opportunity. Alenko and the salarians were a diversion, of secondary importance to the mission, but it’s scant fucking comfort to know I was right to do what I did. Kaidan deserved better, the STG commandos deserved better, and I had nothing better to give them. Life is not fair, I understand that, but this seems needlessly cruel.

   The call chime at my door chirps. It takes me a minute to recognise the sound, as I am still not really used to these quarters being mine. I hesitate: since speaking to Ash and checking in on Liara’s condition in the medbay (sleeping off her exhaustion), I have sought solitude, to rage or grieve as the mood takes me.  The crew need to see my resolve, not my doubt, and certainly they do not need to see my anger, which has driven me to begin prowling up and down the cabin.  Most of the crew wouldn’t come to my door at a time like this, so my visitor is almost certainly either our doctor or one of our alien specialists.  My credits are on Wrex, still upset over my call on the genophage, so to see Liara step into the room is a pleasant surprise. The asari looks worried, endearingly so, and I have to fight the sudden urge to reach out and smooth the frown from her forehead. Instead, I perch on the edge of my desk and fold my arms; not the most welcoming of postures, but one that will keep me in check.

   “Shepard, are you all right?” Liara’s frown has deepened. She takes two steps towards me, then pauses, uncertain of her next move.  “When you missed the evening meal, I thought...”

   “I’m not really hungry, thanks, Liara.  And I’m OK.” Liara looks sceptical, but she is too well-mannered to contradict me.  She hesitates again, and I remember abruptly that she cannot be long out of the medbay.  “How about you?  Saren hit you pretty hard, and then there was the meld.  I stopped by to check on you earlier, but you were asleep.”

   She blushes, a deep purple tinge blooming across her cheeks.  “You did? Oh. That was thoughtful, thank you, but I am fine.  The images from the beacon are intense; coupled with what turned out to be a mild concussion, it was quite painful.  But a little rest has done wonders.”  She cocks her head to one side, regarding me intently.  “Shepard, I am so sorry about Kaidan.  He was very kind to me, and I will miss him. It is hard to believe he is gone.”

   “Yeah.” I am unable to keep the anger from my voice, and I wince, expecting the shy asari to flinch away.  Instead, she comes closer, reaching out as though to lay a hand on my arm. Now she does hesitate.  I say nothing, do nothing, curious as to how far she will go, and after a moment, she completes the uncertain gesture, resting her palm against my bicep.  Warmth from her touch bleeds through my shirt.

   “Shepard, it is not a weakness to be upset.  He was your friend, was he not?”

   I swallow, fighting down the hot surge of grief, ignoring the pain in my still tender throat.  “He was.  And it’s my fault he’s dead.”

   Liara’s grip on my arm tightens.  “It is not your fault.  It is Saren’s.  He is to blame for Kaidan’s death, just as he is to blame for my mother’s.”

   “I know, but... he was under my command.  His life was my responsibility.  It was my choice.”  I sigh deeply, closing my eyes for a moment, willing my anger to abate. I do not want Liara to see me lose control.  “Liara, I appreciate your checking on me, but I’m fine, really.”

   “No,” the asari disagrees simply.  “You are not fine.  You are angry, and upset, and you need to let those feelings out.”  She moves closer still, almost touching, one hand still on my arm and by now stroking up and down, the other arm loose by her side, inviting me in, if that is what I want. “Shepard, please.  You said yourself that we are friends, correct?” At my nod, she moves her free hand to grip my other arm.  “Then, as your friend, I am here to offer you comfort.  If you cannot grieve for Kaidan with me, when will you?” 

   God forgive me, I can’t stop myself.  I want the comfort this bashful, innocent, beautiful young woman is offering.  If I’m honest with myself, I want far more than simple comfort from her. I move closer to the asari, close enough for her to slide her arms around me.  The warmth of the contact between us soothes me, and slowly, tentatively, I let Liara draw me into a hug, resting my head against her shoulder. Her arms tighten, securing me, and I reciprocate, sliding one arm around her waist.  Tears sting my eyes, but I do not cry, simply accepting the comfort of holding another person close. Liara smells good, a clean, citrus scent gracing her skin, and her breath against my neck raises goosebumps. Eyes closed, I breathe in deeply, trying to fight off my imagination as it wanders to the idea of kissing her, stripping her out of her clothes, exploring her body, pleasuring her, which surprises me almost as much as it excites me.  I don’t consider myself hard-wired one way or the other, but I’ve never met a woman I was attracted to enough to act on the feeling, and consequently all of my (few) encounters with romance have been with men. And yet, Liara’s grace and beauty are wreaking havoc with my self-control. There’s something building between us, something I’ve tried to shield myself from with duty, responsibility, and simple self-denial, but ever since the night she fell asleep in my arms, I’ve known I was fighting a losing battle.  You can’t help who you fall for, and I think I’ve fallen hard. 

   Suddenly, Kaidan’s toe-curlingly awkward confession of attraction jumps to the front of my mind, and smothers my nascent musings on what’s happening between Liara and I beneath a fresh fall of grief. Tears slip from beneath my lashes, but I am no longer concerned with hiding how I feel.  Liara says nothing, taking her cue from the night after Noveria, simply offering a physical presence and an opportunity to talk if I wish. I do not wish, so we stand in comfortable silence, consoling one another with the simple presence of another who feels your pain, who understands your hurt.

   After a while, I reluctantly pull away.  I’ve lost track of the time in the comfortable solace of Liara’s presence.  I offer her a weak smile.  “Thanks, Liara.  I feel better.”  The words are woefully inadequate, but I’m suddenly too tired to think straight.

   “Can I get you something to eat?” Liara asks.  “You must be hungry.”

   “No, really, I’m fine.  Skipping one meal won’t do me any harm, I promise.”

   She quirks an “eyebrow” at me.  “You realise I can verify this with Dr. Chakwas, don’t you, Commander?”

   Amused by her attempt at coercion, I grin. “You’d rat me out to Chakwas?  That’s a low blow, Doctor. You don’t fight fair.”

   “I recall you telling me that fair fights are only for sporting contests and never happen in real combat, Commander.  I simply wish to achieve victory.”

   “Smart, biotic, and an adaptive thinker - you’re a dangerous enemy, Doctor.”

   Liara blushes.  “You’re teasing me again, Shepard,” she accuses.

   “Not even a little,” I reply, suddenly aware of how close she’s standing. Her lips are inches from mine, I can feel her breath on my cheek.  Every nerve in my body snaps to attention.  Fingers shaking, I reach out to stroke her flushed cheek.  “You’re intelligent, you learn fast, and you could crush me to a pulp with your mind, to say nothing of being an accurate pistol shot and as fit as any of my marines.  You’re becoming an extremely skilled combatant, one that I trust to have my back.”

   Liara’s blush deepens as she leans slightly into my caress.  “Your trust means a lot to me, Shepard. As does your...friendship.” She sounds as though she thinks she’s chosen the wrong word, and in this moment, I’m not sure either.  I can’t seem to stop my hand from sliding round to trace the first fold at the side of her neck.  She shivers at the touch, sighs very softly, and abruptly, I realise what I’m doing.  Guiltily, I pull my hand away, and uncertainty that flashes in her eyes is not lost on me.  She’s not ready.

   “Not like this,” I murmur softly, my body screaming at my mind for its contrary attempt at self-control. 

   “Shepard, I...” I place a finger across her lips to shush her. They’re so soft, and warm, and the contact does nothing for my unruly libido.

   “It’s OK, Liara.  We have time.  I want what’s growing between us to flourish, but only when we’re both ready, both clear-minded.  I’m sorry for pushing.  I’m tired, I’m upset, and the last thing I want to do is pressure you.” I cut off as Liara reciprocates my gesture, laying a finger across my lips.

   “I understand,” she assures me.  “My uncertainty arises from inexperience with what I am feeling.  It is not a lack of willingness on my part.  I want y...” she blushes furiously, “I mean, I want what is between us to be more as well.” She steps in and kisses my cheek lightly, then enfolds me in a hug.  “When we are ready,” she agrees simply.  “And in the meantime, I intend to make sure you are able to be clear-minded, Commander, so, for the last time, will you come and eat with me? Please?”  She steps away, looks back and holds out one hand.  Smiling, I reach out and take it.

  “Sure.”

* * *

 

Liara is regarding me thoughtfully from her perch on the worktop.  “What?” I ask as I slide off the bed and cross the room to face her.

“I was just wondering – if you had pressured me a little more that night, how many more times would we have managed to make love on the SR-1?”

Shock stops me in my tracks, and for a moment, my brain freezes.  Liara giggles.  “You should see your expression.”  She jumps down and closes the distance between us.

   “Wait, you mean if I’d…”

   She touches three fingers to my lips, silencing me.  “Yes. I would have.  I wanted you, and if you’d asked, I wouldn’t have refused you.”

   “Oh.” I kiss her fingers solemnly.  “Well, in any event, I’m glad I didn’t.”

   Liara blinks.  “That’s not what I expected you to say.”

   “It’s true, though.  Waiting was the right thing to do.  You weren’t quite ready, even if you wanted to be.”

   Liara wraps her arms around me.  “You’re right.  As usual. But I was enjoying this line of recollection.”

   I sweep her off her feet and carry her to the bed.  “Well, why don’t we see if we can fast forward to something a little more satisfying?”

   “Yes, Commander.”


	18. Initiation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liara

My conversation with Sam has stirred memories.  In bed, alone again, I dream of Therum, floating trapped in the Prothean force-field, starving, thirsty and borderline delirious.  Fluctuating between panic and despair, fear of the geth and their krogan commander warring with the ever-more-certain reality that I was going to be killed by the very thing I’d deployed to protect me. Dozing fitfully as exhaustion overcame my nerves now and again. Starting awake from one such broken rest as gunfire erupted through the mine abutting the ruins. Calling out, sure that I had nothing left to lose, and being presented with salvation in the form of two female humans and a male turian, all heavily armed and armoured.  Their leader, one of the humans, speaking in a reassuring and calm voice, so confident that she can solve my predicament. My scepticism at that confidence, then my shock at an approach to solving the problem so blunt and direct that I was astonished the Krogan hunting me hadn't thought of it. 

   "Thanks for the compliment," Shepard grumbles half-jokingly as the scene changes. We are sitting on a ledge high above the mine floor, legs dangling over the edge of an appalling drop.  "Though I suppose, given your heritage, it's natural that that would be your first choice of comparison."

   I elbow her in the ribs none too gently. "I told you, that's not how it works.  Aethyta's Krogan tendencies are nurture, not nature."

   She rubs at her side in comic exaggeration of the pain I have inflicted. "So what's your excuse?" She leans in to kiss my cheek, then waves a hand at the half-buried Prothean city beneath us.  "Seems like only yesterday that I came here, looking for a potential enemy and finding a beautiful damsel in distress instead."

   "I remember I was so frightened of dying there. Then you showed up, this forbidding human, a Spectre no less, with your brash confidence and your wilful disregard for the complexity of my situation. I was so sure you wouldn't be able to free me."

   "Never underestimate a Shepard with a job to do," Rachel chuckles.

   "So I've discovered.  And then, you massacred the geth, carried me out of that volcano, and I found that my rescuer was not only inventive, but also deadly, strong, and brave. All of which I should have realised from your status as a Spectre." I lay my head on her shoulder, and she instinctively wraps her arm around me. "And once we were outside, you took your helmet off, and I saw you were beautiful as well.  I was so intimidated.”

   “You got over that with remarkable speed,” Shepard remembers wryly.  “It took you about six hours to go from intimidated to being ready to analyze me in the lab.”  She presses a kiss to my crest.  “Not that I didn’t enjoy it when you finally decided to follow through with your investigation.”

   I close my eyes and remember that night before Ilos, my first intimacy. Rachel was so kind, so patient with me; her confidently expressed desire and complete trust made me feel so special, so wanted. Goddess, the physical pleasure had been beyond anything I could have imagined, made so much more than mere lovemaking by our first true meld.  Our joinings to try and analyse the cipher were narrow, directed quests for specific knowledge; around the edges of Shepard’s memories of the Prothean message I’d read some scraps of character, enough to be intrigued. Those scraps dimmed and guttered beside the blazing beacon of her full personality, laid bare to me with neither reservation nor restriction; Rachel Shepard, completely at ease with herself, secure in her opinions, confident in her abilities, intelligent, optimistic, generous, and caring.  If she had a fault, it was her tendency to give more than was asked, to be unable to stand aside if she could do something to aid someone.  She had been given the training, the ability, the tools to help those less fortunate, and she deployed them almost without thought, product of her upbringing through a distinguished military family whose highest calling was service, and whose creed was the protection of the innocent.

   The sheer strength of her persona was overwhelming, intimidating even, but her confidence, generosity, and care had made her a perfect first partner. Through her eyes I see myself differently, a brighter, prettier, more confident me, lent extra definition by her affection for me.

_“You’re so beautiful, Liara,” Shepard declares as she undoes the seals on my jacket, baring my neck and collarbones. “May I?”_

_Unsure what she’s asking permission to do, I nod, but I tense involuntarily as she steps closer.  I know I started this, practically jumping on Shepard in my eagerness to get the awkward initial conversation over with, but now, I’m doubly nervous.  I know the theory, for asari, but I have never shared such an intimacy before, and I have no idea about human expectations._

_Shepard picks up on my apprehension, and smiles reassuringly.  “Liara, don’t be nervous.  We’ll work it out together.  I won’t hurt you, and if you don’t like what’s happening, or you’re not ready, you can tell me to stop at any time. If you do like it, or if there’s somewhere you’d like to be touched, just let me know. I know what I enjoy, and I’d bet it’s not that different, but I need to learn what pleases you. I want this to be special for you.”_

_Comforted by her care, I nod my accord. Shepard’s lips close over mine, warm and gentle.  She lifts one hand and trails her fingertips, ever so gently, down my cheek, the side of my neck and over my collarbone.  My skin tingles at the light contact, and I expel a shaky breath.  “Feel good?” Shepard asks, her voice suddenly rough with desire._

_“Very,” I agree.  Shepard slides her hands along my shoulders, under my jacket, and lifts the garment away. I straighten my arms behind me and the scientists’ uniform jacket slides off to drop behind me.  Shepard draws me close, sliding her arms around my waist, holding me loosely, and repeats her earlier tracing of my neckline, but this time with her mouth, feathering light kisses and warm breaths across my skin.  This time, I shiver beneath the tiny jolts of pleasure created by her touch, tipping my head away to give her more room._

_“You like that, huh?”_

_“Goddess, yes.  Please, Shepard... would you do that again?”_

_“Mmm.  Sure. And Liara?”_

_“Yes?”_

_“My name is Rachel.”_

_Before long, Shepard gently removes my vest, baring more of my skin for her to touch and tease.  Despite my building arousal, the need to be touched beginning to pulse in my azure, my nerves return in a rush of self-consciousness.  I am not human, my body will not be exactly what Shepard is used to.  I draw back a little, and a slight frown creases Shepard’s brow.  “You OK?”_

_I blush.  “I’m sorry, Shep... Rachel, I do not mean to keep ruining this for you.”_

_“Liara, it’s as much for you as it is for me. More so, in fact, if this is your first time.  What’s bothering you?”_

_“I am feeling a little self-conscious.  My body...”_

_“Is absolutely gorgeous,” Shepard cuts me off firmly.  “You are incredibly beautiful.” Shepard leans in till her mouth is close to my aural cavity. Her breath tickles as she murmurs, “You should know, Liara, I’ve imagined this. Kissing you, undressing you. Touching you, discovering what delights you. Some nights I can’t sleep for thinking of you, of having you naked in my bed, of what your skin would feel like under my hands, of the sounds you would make when aroused by my touch. Hearing you whisper my name, begging me to please you.”_

_Shepard’s frank expression of desire, delivered in such a confident, possessive tone, sends shocks of anticipation streaking through me. I want her to do all of these things; I’ve imagined this too.  I feel my skin flush with embarrassment and arousal at the echo of my own nightly torment, at the thought that someone like Shepard could ever harbour such thoughts about me. She traces a finger lightly along the edge of my bra, then she grins.  “Tell you what.  Maybe this will help.”  Before I can ask her to clarify, she tugs her shirt from her pants, grabs the hem and hauls it over her head, dumping the garment carelessly on the deck. She strips with efficient grace, and stands in front of me completely naked. I study her for a moment, taking in the similarities, and the differences, and I am reassured.  Shepard’s body is not so different from my own; her pale tan skin is smoother than mine, lacking the fine scales that dapple most of my body, and her azure is, well, not azure, and covered with a small patch of coarse hair. Most other differences arise from the disparate nature of our professions; Shepard is muscular where I know my own figure to be softer, but not so much so that the graceful lines of her body are disrupted.  There are scars, but they are worn with assurance. She is beautiful, honed to perfection, as in command of her body as she is of her ship and her crew.  Tentatively, I reach out and touch her, sliding my palm over her shoulder and down her arm, marvelling at the supple smoothness of her skin, the warmth of her body. She catches my hand, guiding my touch back to her collarbone, down over her soft breasts and hard, muscled belly, then moves my hand to her waist.  “Better?” she asks softly._

_I nod, and close the distance, pulling her against me, enjoying the heat of her body pressed to my cooler skin.  She cups my face in her hands and we kiss, an unhurried, slow-burning connection.  She slides her hands back, exploring the folds at the back of my neck, making me shudder uncontrollably, and then down my spine, reaching to unhook my bra.  I shake the undergarment loose, and then Shepard’s warm, teasing fingers are moving again, under my arm and up to caress my right breast. Pleasure and desire begin to pulse through me more insistently.  “Oh, Goddess,” I breathe.  “Rachel, that feels wonderful.”_

_“Good.”  She walks me back to the bed, and finishes undressing me before laying me down on the soft duvet. Stretching out at my side, she kisses me again; her hands roam, fingers mapping out my skin, but careful to avoid touching me where my body is insisting I need to be touched.  The slow torment of her mouth and hands exploring is driving me wild, coaxing responses from my flesh and feelings that I could not have imagined, drawing involuntary gasps and moans every time she attends to a particular pleasure spot. My azure is aching now, causing my hips to thrust upwards in search of the contact Shepard keeps denying me.  Wisps of blue-white biotic energy begin to smoke off me in response to my failing mental control, and I can feel my mind opening, driving me toward a meld, pure instinct overriding intellect and reason._

_Shepard, sensing that I am fast losing my inhibition, uses her knee to nudge my thighs apart.  “Are you OK, Liara?” she whispers in my ear, working her palm up the inside line of my thigh. Her breathing is fast, heavy; her voice is unsteady, her eyes are darker than normal, her skin is flushed, even though I have hardly touched her beyond stroking her soft hair and skin. The realisation that she might truly desire me as much as I desire her redoubles the aching intensity of my need for her touch._

_“I’ve never felt so...” Words fail me._

_Shepard takes the opportunity to tease a little.  “So... what?” she enquires huskily, her hand sliding back down my leg to my knee.  “Beautiful?”  She dips her head to kiss the hollow of my throat.  “Wonderful?” Her lips trace down my breast.  “Sexy?”_

_Goddess, I can’t think.  All I want is for her to keep touching me. “Rachel, please... don’t stop.”_

_“No fear of that,” Shepard replies, dragging her hand back along my inner thigh.  “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone more.”  However, she pulls back and sits up, propping herself against her pillows.  “C’mere.”_

_I crawl over to her, stealing a kiss as she settles me in her arms, my head against her shoulder, her arm around my back.  I sit between her legs, my own legs draped over her right thigh. She pushes my legs wider apart and slides her hand gently upwards. Her fingertips trail delicately over my most intimate place even as she claims my mouth in a possessive kiss, her tongue stealing in to tangle with mine. Her touch sparks a deep craving for more of this euphoria. I moan in approval, desperate for a crescendo._

_“Oh, God, Liara,” she breathes as she strokes me, stoking the fire building in my belly, “I should have realised...”  She smiles as she looks into my eyes.  “Your body is ready.  Are you?”_

_“Yes,” I whisper.  She dips her head once, her intent gaze never breaking mine as her touch becomes firmer. My body arches involuntarily forwards as she gently penetrates me.  Pleasure explodes through my consciousness, and it takes me all of the control I have left to warn my new lover.  “Rachel, embrace eternity!” I reach for her mind, and there is no resistance.  She welcomes me in, as I do her.  Goddess, she is magnificent: kind, strong, and so confident. She has no fear of my knowing who she is, what she is, but as I teeter on the edge of the meld, there is one thing front and centre of Rachel Shepard’s mind. How much she wants this union, how much she wants me.  Her desire is an exact mirror of my own._

Did you doubt me? _Her thoughts are as clear as spoken words, but carry her emotions and meaning without possibility of misunderstanding._

No, never.  Only myself, _I reply, equally freed from the constraints of speech._ I could not conceive of how you could want me so much.

   Let me show you, Liara.  Join me.

   Rachel...yes.

_I reach for her again, completing the meld. Our beings fuse, physically and mentally, and we are swept headlong into an eternal moment of shared rapture._


	19. Soul to Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard

I jerk awake, disoriented by the sense that I am not alone when I expect to be. Something warm, soft, and heavy is pinning me down, draped comfortably across me. "Lights," I murmur softly, smiling as the mystery resolves; Liara T'Soni is sound asleep in my bed. Or rather, on me.

I can't remember the last time I felt so content. In spite of all the danger we are currently headed toward, all of the heartache and pain this mission has caused for me and the crew, I have been blessed with this moment of unmatched happiness.

Liara is bewitching. She is achingly beautiful, and her eyes shine with her enthusiasm for life. She is compassion and kindness, and she is the smartest person I have ever met. She is so direct and open, so trusting of me and my intentions towards her. She is optimism and hope, and being close to her is narcotic. She welcomed me into her mind with no reservations, and trusted me with her body, with her first experience of lovemaking. The echo of her uninhibited pleasure in my mind is a sensation I cannot hope to describe to someone who hasn't experienced it.

Wrung out by the sensory overload, she quickly fell asleep in my arms afterward; it took me a while to cool off, especially with her warm, soft flesh pressed against me. My own needs went unmet, but I remember my first time being, to put it mildly, less than I'd imagined, and I was determined that Liara should have the best experience possible. I'm grown up enough to do the right thing, even though I was convinced at several points in the proceedings that my attempt at gallantry was going to prove futile.

"Rachel?" Liara's voice is smoky with sleep; she gazes at me from under half-opened eyelids as she shifts slightly on top of me. The movement, the slide of skin on skin, is enough to jump-start my pulse, and I bite my lip to catch the groan of satisfaction that wants to escape. Reaching up, I run my fingertips down the back of Liara's neck, aware from our meld that the soft folds her crest protects are incredibly sensitive, incredibly erogenous. _If only I'd known that earlier_... Liara blinks, opening her eyes fully, gasping. "Ohhh," she breathes, a sultry, needy expression of pleasure, and before I can respond, she is kissing me fiercely. When we break to breathe, she is blushing. "Goddess," she whispers, "I want..." She sits up, freeing herself from my teasing of her nape. Peeling back the sheets, she runs her gaze slowly over my exposed body, scrutinizing me closely, and in spite of myself I can feel a blush heating my cheeks and spreading downwards. I reach out a hand to cup one tantalisingly close breast, and she moans in enjoyment, but she pushes my hand away gently after a moment. "Rachel, please, I..." She looks uncertain.

"What's wrong, Liara?" I ask softly, trying to be reassuring. "You know you can tell me anything."

She trails her fingers from my collarbone down between my breasts and across my belly, digging in lightly with her nails. "Nothing's wrong. Everything is... perfect. You were so kind. You made me feel so special, so cherished... I can't find the words."

"You don't have to," I assure her, laying my hand atop hers. "I could feel it when we melded. I'm thrilled that you asked me to share this with you, that I'm the person you felt comfortable enough with to ask. I know it wasn't easy for you to step into my cabin tonight, but Li, I'm overjoyed that you did."

Liara's expression relaxes into a deep, contented smile, her eyes dancing with sapphire sparks. "Thank you, Rachel, but I have one concern about our lovemaking." She shifts her hand, sliding it up to cup my left breast.

"What concern?" I force out, fighting to concentrate as Liara's fingers slide provocatively over my sensitive flesh. "Did I hurt you, or..."

"No. Far from it," Liara assures me, bringing her free hand up to my free breast. "My concern is that you did not take any pleasure for yourself."

Oh God, that feels _so_ good. Her hands are so soft, so teasing. "I enjoyed it, believe me, but...it was your first time. I wanted you to feel your own body's reactions, experience as much as I could give you without having you worry about reciprocating." I arch my back, pushing my breasts harder into her hands, letting her know unequivocally how much I am enjoying her caresses. "I'm a big girl, all grown up. I can be patient, though I admit you nearly broke my control a few times."

Liara simply nods. "I know. Your thoughts were open to me. I know your reasoning, and I am grateful for your care, which I will accept as a gift, freely given, on one condition." She leans in so that her lips are inches from my ear.

"What condition?" I ask breathlessly.

"That you now accept the same gift from me." Liara nips gently at my earlobe, and a shock of desire zaps through my entire body. "Let me explore your body, Rachel. Let me learn how to pleasure you with my touch." She drifts one hand down over my hip. "With my mouth." Her lips close over the pulse point below my jaw, teeth scraping over my skin. "With my body." She moves over me, rubbing her stomach against mine as she pushes her thigh between my legs.

"Oh God," I groan, tipping my head back and closing my eyes as she nuzzles at my neck. "Deal. I'm all yours, Liara. Do whatever you want with me. I'll try to behave, but if you push me too far..."

"Then I'll accept the consequences of my actions," Liara cuts me off with a smile, kneeling back and dropping a quick kiss on my lips. "You pride yourself on your self-control, don't you, Rachel?" Her hands slide down my sides and back up over my abdomen to my breasts.

"Ahh... yes." I'm not sure if my response is answering her question or affirming the effect of her touch.

"I could feel it." Liara kisses me again, her confidence growing seemingly by the minute as I shiver under her hands. I reach for her nape, wanting to share the pleasure but she bats my hand away again. "No, Rachel. Please. Accept my gift to you."

"I do, but... I just want to touch you, Li. I love the way you feel in my arms."

"I know. But here is the test of your self-control," Liara almost purrs, kissing her way back to my ear. "If you can do as I ask now, my hope is that the outcome will be even more satisfying for both of us." She looks down at me, and her eyes are already almost black. "Remember, what you can feel, I will feel, when we join."

God. The recollection of Liara's first climax breaks over me like a wave. I'd had no idea the meld shared physical feeling as well as emotions, and the sheer unrestrained power of her release left me breathless. Gasping as she resumes her caresses, I lift my hands and tuck them behind my head, pinning them down. Liara smiles an almost predatory smile, and begins her assault on my senses in earnest, her hand sliding gently between my legs, pushing my thighs apart to let her touch me. Desire boils along every nerve, overloads every synapse and the moan that tears from me makes Liara pause.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" she asks anxiously.

"Christ, no. Li, please...don't stop." I crane my neck to try to kiss her, anywhere, move her past the hesitation. She giggles at my failure, and leans closer to let me touch my lips to her cheek. "Join with me," I request. "Then you'll know what I'm feeling. You'll know how much I...ahhh... like it when you do... _that_."

Liara smiles. "As you wish, Rachel. Open yourself to me, body and mind. Let me discover you completely." Her hands stroke gently up and down my torso, and I settle back, willing myself to relax under her gentle fingers. Warmth envelopes my senses, and suddenly Liara is there, in my mind, surrounding me. She is calmer this time, not roused to a desperate frenzy by her first experience of sex, and I can feel more of her emotions, more of her essential being. I hesitate; it's overwhelmingly personal, deeply intimate and I can't shake the sudden apprehension that this isn't unspeakably voyeuristic.

 _Rachel, it's all right_ , Liara whispers in my thoughts.

_It didn't feel like this... earlier, and the other times. I couldn't...see, is that the right word? I couldn't see so much._

_This evening I was overwhelmed by what you were doing to my body._ The thought carries a warm flush of arousal, but no embarrassment. _And before, with the Cipher, we were looking at your mind, and looking for specific information; there would have been some bleed, some sense of personality, but not very much._

_There was. I knew you were trustworthy, right from that first meld._

_Exactly. And I knew you would protect me,_ Liara replies. Somewhere in the distance, I feel her kiss me, somewhat chastely, and feel the echo of her enjoyment. _You make me feel so safe, Rachel. I am not afraid to have you know me. Look at me. This is who I am._

Reassured, I let myself be drawn deeper, feeling Liara all around me. God, she's so beautiful, in spirit as well as in flesh. Liara is kind, sensitive to the hurt of others, possessed of profound reserves of compassion and empathy. Liara is fiercely intelligent, insatiably curious, rigorous in her discipline of both these traits while harbouring a deep, abiding wonder at the splendours of the universe. Liara is shy, lacking confidence in herself, but she is neither weak nor cowardly. Her courage is the quiet type that endures without the bolster of self-belief or conditioned response, the kind that persists in spite of fear, the kind that will risk everything running into a burning building for an innocent. Liara is humble and self-effacing, but her determination is adamantine, and her passion for those things she cares for is molten gold; dazzling, searing, incredibly precious. With the right support, with confidence in herself instilled, Liara will be capable of shaking the galaxy to its core.

 _My God, Liara,_ I whisper, awed at my discovery. _I thought I was getting to know you, but to see you like this..._ I can't form the thoughts. It's overwhelming, and I try to pull back.

A sudden spike of apprehension focuses my attention. _Liara, what's wrong?_

 _I... is there something you saw that concerns you?_ Her whole being is suddenly laced with uncertainty; the connection between us starting to unravel. Quickly, I gather her into my arms, lifting my hand to stroke her crests as I kiss her reverently.

 _Easy, Li, come back to me,_ I plead, trying to pour as much comfort and reassurance as I can into my thoughts. _I'm sorry, this is so new to me. It was overwhelming, and I reacted out of reflex. Nothing's wrong. Don't leave me, please._

She relaxes, physically and mentally, and the bond between us reinforces, steadies. _I'm sorry._

 _Don't be. I just... you're so beautiful, Liara, I can't find the thoughts to express what I feel. Can't you feel it, too?_ Reverence, desire, gratitude, humility, affection, passion, maybe even love, roiling in the core of my emotions when I think of her.

There is a long silence as Liara feels with me. _Oh, Rachel,_ she whispers, her tone awed.

_I couldn't lie to you if I wanted to, could I? That's how you make me feel._

_I'm not worthy._

_Yes, you are. They're my feelings, I should know._

She laughs easily. _But Rachel, how could I be? Look at yourself. Look at what I see._

The palette of emotional colour shifts. I see bravery, death-defying and obdurate. Generosity, kind and giving, affording trust in the better angels of a person's nature, accepting the soldier's bargain that I may die so others may be safe. Strength, physical and mental, the layered bedrock of self-discipline and self-command from which all other abilities flow. Prowess in combat, confidence born of the experience of being the best at what you do, tempered by humility, the knowledge that skills are forged from sweat, toil, and sacrifice. Leadership, a calm, decisive, reassuring presence, a drive to excel and to have others excel and fulfil their own potential. Patience, audacity, fair-mindedness; the balance and assurance that come from accepting your own strengths and weaknesses. And laced through it all, a sense of awed devotion, and a tiny thread of disbelief; Liara's feelings for me, and her conviction that she is somehow undeserving of my affection.

 _Wow,_ I murmur. _That's certainly not how I see myself._

 _No one sees their true selves without deprecation,_ Liara observes. _It is only our loved ones, who share our thoughts, who are ever granted the privilege of unambiguous truth. Only my mother, and now you, have ever known me like this._

_I'm honoured, Li. Your trust is my privilege._

_And your patience is without equal,_ Liara chuckles, her hands gliding teasingly down my body. _I'm being a very poor lover, aren't I?_

 _You'll get better with practice,_ I joke gently. _And besides, it's my first time too. With melding involved, anyway. We both lost our virginities tonight, in a manner of speaking._

 _Oh, Rachel._ Liara's emotions flare rapidly into desire as she kisses me, her hands working at my breasts, and the bolt of arousal that reasserts my interest in my physical needs amplifies as it echoes back and forth between my mind and Liara's. Time to stop thinking and feel. Opening my mind as much as I can, I offer myself freely to my lover, body and mind, and ecstasy sweeps reality away.


	20. A Room with a View

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liara

Engineering is a hive of activity, as usual. Adams, Daniels and Donnelly are all hard at work. Like Tali, the engineering team are lucky in a way.  With the Normandy in need of such extensive repair, they have work to occupy their minds, distract them from thinking too much about our predicament, their homes, their families. As I enter the room, I can see Adams buried to his waist in a maintenance conduit, Daniels hanging off an access ladder near the door to the drive compartment, and Donnelly sitting on the deck beneath a console with its intestinal wiring spilling into his lap.  The Scot is the first to notice me, and his fierce frown of concentration relaxes into a wide grin.  “Dr. T’Soni, it’s good to see you.  How you doin’?”

   “I am doing better, Chief Donnelly, thank you,” I reply.  I don’t know this man as well as I do Adams, but I know Shepard regards him with fond exasperation, similar to her feelings for Joker, though without the awe at the pilot’s truly sublime skills. Daniels is the more technically gifted of the pair of Chiefs, and Shepard holds her in higher regard, but Donnelly is a brave man, a loyal man, and a hard-working man who gives his all to his duties, and so holds his commanding officer’s affection in spite of his somewhat insubordinate nature.

   Gabby has clambered down from her perch, and approaches, wiping her hands on a rag that looks dirtier than her skin.  “Hey, Doc,” she greets me.  “Thanks for sending Glyph to help us.  He’s an annoying little asshole, but he’s been really useful when he stops talking.” She grins to let me know that her gratitude far outweighs her irritation.

“I feel much the same way about him,” I confide.  “I’m glad he’s been of assistance.”

   “Oh, he definitely has, Liara.”  Greg has extricated himself from his conduit, and he wraps me in a companionable hug. “I’m glad to see you up and about.  Karin, uh... Dr. Chakwas was worried about you.”

   I smile.  “Greg, you do know that you and Karin are possibly the worst kept secret aboard, don’t you? Gabby and Ken are far more circumspect.”

   All three engineers flush with sudden embarrassment.  “Shit, how’d you find out about that?” Gabby asks incredulously.  “We were so sure nobody knew.”

   “I’m the Shadow Broker,” I shrug.  “I know everything.”

   “No fair, Doc,” Donnelly objects.  “Did EDI tell you?”

   “No. Shepard did. I know you thought she didn’t see you that time in the stairwell, but she did,” I confess on Rachel’s behalf, and I can’t help but laugh at the matching crestfallen expressions on the couple.

   “Shite, I really thought we’d got away with it as well,” Ken sighs.  “Shepard never cracked a bloody light, just said ‘carry on’ in that oblivious CO way.”

   “Shepard’s got an amazing poker face, you ass,” Gabby snorts derisively.  “You remember the whole ‘go easy on the rookie’ Skyllian Five game, don’t you?”

   I frown.  “But Shepard’s an excellent Skyllian Five player, Chief.  She used to clean house on the SR-1.”

   Gabby laughs delightedly.  “So we discovered. She took 500 credits off of flyboy here before he realised what she’d done. But I really didn’t think she was one for spreading gossip, poker face or no.”

   “Well, she isn’t, but she was crying with laughter by the time she made it back to my cabin,” I admit.  “And she can’t bluff me.”

   “Anyway, you’re one to talk about poorly kept secrets about relationships,” Greg suggests to me.

   “We weren’t really hiding our relationship, Greg,” I refute his assertion.  “Some people are just oblivious to that kind of thing.  But you’ll recall the incident in the mess just after Sur’Kesh?”

 

_Shepard was drinking._

_A lot._

_With Wrex._

_The old krogan warhorse had brought a bottle of ryncol on board, and in celebration of Eve’s successful liberation from the STG base, he cracked it open and challenged us to drink with him.  Shepard was smart enough to refuse the ryncol, but the challenge was not to be passed up.  The Normandy’s rec room was well stocked, and a generous bottle of Tennessee whiskey was quickly liberated. Discretion being the better part of valour, I selected a bottle of human white wine for myself.  I rarely drink, and to try and keep up with Shepard and Wrex in a session is something I have neither the courage nor the physiology for.  Settling down round a table in the mess with Garrus, Mordin, Chakwas, Adams, Cortez, and an incredibly curious EDI, we pass a pleasant evening engaged in what humans refer to as a ‘bull session’, largely composed of steadily more outrageous war stories and steadily more filthy jokes. If it was Shepard’s aim for the evening to make me blush almost continuously, she certainly succeeded._

_Evening passes into morning, by which point we have driven Mordin back to the safe haven of the medbay.  I started drinking water a while ago, but Shepard, Garrus and Wrex are still drinking liquor, still talking, still laughing, while the rest of us listen in slightly stupefied contentment. Wrex regales us with the tale of how he became Urdnot clan leader, and then Shepard takes her turn, recounting the fall of the Shadow Broker, with added commentary from Garrus.  Wrex’s eyes are alight with mirth as she speaks, and he roars with laughter and slaps his knee in delight as Shepard recounts the demise of the yahg, vastly embellishing my role in the fight.  “Excellent!” he barks in approval.  “That’s what comes of being a quarter krogan!”_

_I roll my eyes in exasperation.  “Oh, please, for the thousandth time, Wrex, that’s not how it works.”_

_“So you say.  Blood will out.  I just hope your grandpa was Urdnot, that’s all.”_

_My grandfather was Clan Jurdon, a fact it would be impolitic to mention to Wrex at the best of times, so I shrug noncomittally.  “Whatever clan he was, Wrex, it doesn’t change the facts.”_

_“Bah, quit pretending you’re a shy little scientist, Liara, it doesn’t wash any more.  And it’s just as well that you’re not - such a timid thing as you used to be would be no fit mate for a warrior like Shepard.”_

_Silence falls around the table, and Shepard blushes bright red.  I feel my own cheeks heat.  Goddess, I know that our relationship is not exactly a secret, but still..._

_Wrex cackles triumphantly.  “Ancestor’s bones, Shepard, don’t tell me you’re embarrassed?  You have a strong mate, one that’s worthy of you.  You should be proud!”_

_Shepard’s blush fades, her grin replaced by the overly steady determination of the very drunk.  “I am proud,” she says clearly, in spite of how much she’s had to drink.  “Proud to be thought worthy of being Liara’s mate.”_

_Garrus hoots with drunken laughter.  “Damn, Shepard, you got a real bad case of blue fever, don’t you?”_

_“Yup,” Shepard agrees happily._

_“I’m right here,” I protest mildly.  “And I’d remind you all that I can flay any of you alive... with my mind!”_

_Shepard snorts with glee as Cortez’s mouth drops open into an ’O’ of surprise.  “She’s got claws, Steve, didn’t you realize? Meet Liara T’Soni, the most badass asari in the whole galaxy. She can take down a yahg in CQC without breaking a sweat.” Chakwas, snuggled against Adams’ arm, is crying with laughter, and EDI looks bewildered, insofar as it is possible. Shepard stands up carefully, and walks painstakingly over to me, concentrating fiercely in order to manage the five steps or so it takes to reach my side.  She offers her hand, and I accept, allowing her to draw me to my feet. “Wrex?” she tosses the krogan’s name over her shoulder, eyes never leaving mine._

_“What?”_

_“This is totally why Liara has a window, and you don’t.”_

_Before I can query Shepard’s nonsensical comment, she leans in and kisses me, throwing her arms around me as much for support as from passion.  Shocked, I freeze for a split second, then relax - the damage is done, so I might as well enjoy the moment, even if I do want to die of embarrassment. Gathering her closer, I lock my fingers in her hair, deepening the kiss, enjoying the taste of the whiskey in Shepard’s mouth.  She lets out a short, muffled moan, then we gently break.  I hold her head, keeping our gazes locked as we share a private smile._ I love you _, she mouths, then turns to our audience, shocked into silence at last.  “If you can do better than that, old man, you can have Liara’s cabin.”_

_Wrex roars with laughter.  “I know when I’m beaten, Shepard.  Besides, no offence but I’m really not interested in kissing you.”_

_“Well, thank Christ for that,” Shepard laughs.  She staggers slightly as her balance shifts.  “Woah.”_

_I take my cue, hooking an arm around her waist to stabilise her.  “I think that’s probably bedtime, Commander.”_

_“Promise, Doctor?” Shepard leers as she leans against me._

_“I can guarantee you’ll be sound asleep in about five minutes, yes,” I chuckle, steering our stalwart leader carefully around the table.  “Come on, Shepard.  Time to call it a night.”_

_A chorus of genial farewells sends us on our way, and I take the easy option of guiding Shepard to my cabin rather than the lift.  She collapses onto her back on the bed with a happy sigh.  “That... was awesome.”_

_“You needed the downtime,” I reply as I change for bed.  Shepard doesn’t respond, and when I turn around, she is sound asleep.  Smiling, I loosen her collar, tug off her boots, and coil myself around her to sleep.  For a brief time tonight, she has been carefree, and to see her so is worth almost any price._

 

Adams’ voice breaks me from my reverie.  “Yeah, how could I forget?  That was an epic night.” He smiles fondly. “Wherever Shepard and Wrex have got themselves, I hope they’re arguing long into the night over a bottle or two about who actually took down the Reaper on Tuchanka.”

  I’m touched by Adams’ sensitivity to my feelings.  “Thank you, Greg.  If I know Shepard, she’ll probably let Wrex have that one.  She does have Sovereign, plus the one from Rannoch, one from London, and perhaps a few million more to take credit for.”

   “True,” Adams grins, then he looks around, sighing.  “Well, we’d better get back to it, I guess.  She won’t fix herself.”

   “Is there anything I can do to help?”

   “You’ve done enough for now, with Glyph helping us.  Traynor could probably use a hand, though, and I know communications is more your field of expertise.”

   “I’ll check in with her, then.”

   “Dr. T’Soni?” Donnelly says quietly. "Shepard was the best CO I ever had the privilege of serving with. I’m so sorry we couldn’t get to her before… well, you know…” He trails off awkwardly, looking hangdog, and Daniels squeezes his arm supportively. 

   I nod, looking away to hide my tears. “Thank you, Chief.”  I leave the engine room, heading back to Shepard’s quarters. She’s waiting for me, sitting on the couch with her feet propped on the coffee table.

   “How are the repairs coming?” she asks.

   “Slowly,” I reply, sitting down beside her and leaning my head against her shoulder.  “But steadily.  Greg and his team are working so hard, I feel bad that we can’t do more to help them. I can help Samantha, but the engineers and Tali could do with more back-up.”

   “We only have so many people with that kind of training,” Shepard reflects, “and we were short-handed from the get-go.” She frowns as she mulls it over.  “Garrus is pretty handy with maintenance, and he can calibrate more than just the main gun.”

   “Ash has him checking our perimeter.”

   “James can handle that on his own – we are parked in what appears to be an uninhabited patch of jungle – it doesn’t need too much watching, I’d bet.” Shepard smiles.  “And please tell me Campbell and Westmoreland are more gainfully occupied than guarding the war room.”

   “They alternate between forage duty and gofering for the engineers, like most of the crew.”  I sigh.  “I’ll talk to Garrus, but that’s about all I can do.”

   “It’s enough.  Even if it’s an hour here and there, it’ll be appreciated.”

   “It’s not enough.  Garrus is a good friend, and his help will be appreciated, but..they miss you.  Adams, Daniels and Donelly.  And Traynor.  You were their hero.”

   Shepard turns to look at me consideringly.  “I’m not the only one who can fill that role, Li. They look up to you too.”

   “Me?  But why would they…” Shepard cuts me off with a gentle kiss.

   “Because I do, sweetheart.  Because I do.”


	21. The Princess and the Pauper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard

I’m doing nothing.

It’s been a long time since I had nothing to do, and I’m not really sure I’m doing it right.  I find myself on edge, tense, anticipating a call to action. It’s stupid, mental muscle memory.  Shore leave is always like this, the first few days, as I let myself unwind, realise the battle stations alert isn’t going to go off in the middle of the night, lay down the burdens of command and return to being just Rachel rather than Commander Shepard. Perversely, being just Rachel is often more difficult for me to deal with. (Karin Chakwas is too smart by half, even when she’s drunk.  She has this all figured out.) So I sit in a vest and shorts, mug of coffee in one hand, hair sticking out in all directions and stare out of the window at the view over Intai’Sei’s northern plains, trying to convince myself that it’s OK. We found the conduit, we beat the bad guy, I have some shiny new medals, and I deserve a little break.  Nothing needs saving, at least not right at this minute.

   Warm hands slide onto my shoulders, thumbs pressing gently against the nape of my neck. I start at the contact as it jerks me from my nervous reverie, and the grip tightens for a moment then slides forward, hands running down over my torso until Liara is embracing me from behind, her lips nuzzling at the sensitive spot just beneath my jaw.  I tip my head back and to the side, allowing her better access, and a second shiver racks me. “Good morning, Rachel,” Liara breathes in my ear.

   “Good morning, Liara.  Did you sleep all right?”

   “I did.  I was quite tired, for some reason.”

   “I can’t imagine why that would be,” I reply, hooking my arm up around Liara’s head to trail my fingers through the folds at the back of her neck, and she shivers in turn.

   “Oh, really?” Liara’s tone holds a note of teasing, and it makes me smile. Her confidence around me has grown exponentially since our first union, her first time, a little over two weeks ago. One of the peculiar benefits of the melding; she can feel how I feel about her, and that knowledge has given her a tremendous boost.

   And how do I feel about her?  I’m crazy about her. Few and far between they may have been, but I’ve had lovers before, men I believed I cared for deeply, even loved, and I never felt this way about any of them. She’s more than I ever imagined I could hope for. I set my coffee mug down, and tug Liara’s hand so that she circles the chair, then pull her down onto my lap.  She coils her arms around my neck and rests her head against my shoulder, then sighs.  “OK?” I ask her.

   “Mmm,” she agrees contentedly.  We sit in comfortable silence for a while; Liara is thinking, and I am content to wait till she’s ready to talk, enjoying the warmth of her bare skin, absently caressing her nape and upper back.  She is completely and unselfconsciously naked (I have discovered, much to my delight, that this is what passes as normal nightwear for asari). Military life with its communal showers and sleeping quarters has cured me of most regular human hang-ups about nudity, but there’s something overpoweringly sensual about watching Liara wander around without a stitch on, absolutely oblivious to the beauty of her body. But there again, that’s clearly far more about me than it is about her.

My hand wanders under her arm and up to cup her left breast, and she sighs softly. “Penny for your thoughts?” I murmur into her aural cavity.

“I was thinking about what you said last night,” she replies, combing her fingers through my hair.  “About wanting to see Thessia.”

   “Yeah.  Crown jewel of the galaxy, they say.”

   Liara smiles at this.  “It certainly is beautiful, and I look forward to showing it to you, but speaking of it reminded me... I have inherited all of my mother’s holdings and estates.”

   “Estates, plural?  As in more than one?”

   Liara chuckles.  “Yes.  My family, the T’Soni lineage, has a long and distinguished history.  We have been leaders, shapers of policy, for many generations.  The bedrock of that leadership has been success in our endeavours as maidens and matrons; no matter our field, we are expected to excel. That excellence initially bred financial security, and then, over generations, a great deal of wealth.”

   “So you’re incredibly rich in addition to being the daughter of one of the most prominent matriarchs in the Republics?” I clarify.

   Liara blushes slightly.  “Yes. I am uncertain as to the exact extent of my moth… my holdings, but I do know that in terms of property, they include the town house in Armali, the apartment in Serrice, and the estate on the Silver Coast. ”

   I feel my mouth drop open in astonishment.  I’m still trying to wrap my head around owning this little prefab on a beautiful backwater, and Liara has three homes on arguably the most desirable planet in the galaxy? “Wow.  I’m still half-convinced everything I own fits into my foot locker, and you’ve got... estates?  With staff?  And private transports and security and all that, the whole nine yards?” Liara nods, her blush intensifying, and worry creeping into her expression.  I tweak her nose gently.  “Does it bother you?”

   She shifts in my arms, straddling my lap so she can look at me directly.  “No, not exactly.  It is a big responsibility, and there will be expectations now that I am the sole remaining scion of the founding line.  My mother’s sisters have families, of course, but my mother's line is deemed the principal inheritor.”

   “Expectations including you not gallivanting around the galaxy playing soldiers with council Spectres?” I hazard, feeling a sudden hollow chill at the thought of Liara leaving me.

   “No.  Not yet, not for a long time,” she assures me, reinforcing her words with a quick kiss.  “I am still a maiden, barely old enough to be considered an adult - I have perhaps one hundred and fifty years before the duties of my house will become a burden, and until then I am free to... gain experiences.”

   “Great.  You managed to make me a cradle robber and a pet goldfish, all in the same sentence,” I tease, running my fingers up Liara’s spine.

   “I don’t understand either of those terms, Rachel.”

   “Cradle robber means someone who dates a partner significantly younger than themselves, especially if the younger partner is barely old enough to consent.  A goldfish is often a kid’s first pet.  They don’t live very long, so they’re often a child’s first experience of loss.”

   Liara blushes adorably.  “Rachel, forgive me, I didn’t mean to...” I silence her with a deep kiss, and her hands clutch reflexively at the back of my head as I pull her closer.

   “I know, Li, I’m only teasing,” I murmur.  “But what’s bothering you about all this?”

   She rests her forehead against mine.  “I just wanted you to be aware.  Wealth and power can be frightening for some people, and they can breed all sorts of resentment if kept secret.  I don’t want to have secrets from you, and when we do go to Thessia, I don’t want the inevitable fuss to surprise you, or put you off, or make you feel unwelcome.”

   “Don’t you worry about me,” I reply with a grin.  “For wealth, I have this prefab, a modest credit account, and a lockbox on the Arc with some family heirlooms.  As for power, well, I’m a Council Spectre, so my word is the law, I command the most advanced starship in the galaxy, and I’m a famous hero.  So, clearly, much better on the power front than with the money.” 

   Liara laughs at my boasting, and I squeeze her gently.  “I understand what you’re trying to say, Li, but I’m happy just to be with you. Where we are, or how much money we have are no big deal. You’re more important to me than money.”  I wink at her. “Besides, it’s not like you being fabulously wealthy will really be a hardship. But how about if I promise not to get upset when you have to pay for everything on Thessia because I’m a penniless hero and you’re a rich princess.” Liara’s flush deepens further, but the expression in her eyes isn’t embarrassment, as I reach under her chin to tilt her face up.  She shifts closer, pressing her naked skin against me.  I brush my fingers down her neck, then round the edge of her breast, feeling her shiver, watching her eyes darken steadily with lust and the need to meld.  “My beautiful princess,” I murmur, using my free hand to cup her nape and tilt her face to mine. Her fingers lock in my hair.

   “Oooh, my hero,” she giggles exaggeratedly, kissing me far too briefly and swinging herself off my lap. She stands, looking down at me, a wanton glint in her eye as she stretches to present me with a full view of her glorious body. “I am going for a shower. Normally, as a spoilt rich girl, I would have an attendant to wait upon my... pleasure.  Can I interest you in a little mercenary work, soldier? I know you could do with the credits.”

   She yelps, then shrieks with helpless laughter as I surge off the chair and hoist her over my shoulder, heading for the bathroom just as fast as I can.

 

“We never got the chance to see Thessia as I would have hoped,” Liara says sadly.

   “I’d still like to go. The Reapers can’t have destroyed everything.  There must be some uninhabited little island paradise in the middle of the ocean where we could forget about the universe for a few weeks.”

   Liara leans over to rest her head on my shoulder.  “That would be perfect.”  She blows out a short, pensive breath.  “You realize that vacation was the closest you and I have ever come to normal life,” she remarks.  “One week where we were together, living in a house, with nobody shooting at us and no galaxy hanging in the balance.  You even cooked.”

   I laugh softly.  “Is my being able to cook really all that surprising?”

   “It’s not that, it’s…” Liara pauses, “it’s that I can’t really fathom how we would live a normal life, you and I. Living in one place, going to work, coming home to dinner, going out for the evening, sleeping in at the weekend, grocery shopping…”She shakes her head.  “It eludes me.”

   “Me too.  It’s not a lifestyle I’ve ever actually aspired to up to now.” I turn her head so that she’s looking at me.  “Is that what you’d like?  Settling down in one place, a stable job, domestic bliss, the whole nine yards?”

   Liara shrugs.  “I don’t know. On Ilium, when I had the opportunity, I ended up working all the time. To be honest, I suspect I would be bored.  And I know you would be.”  

   “I think you might be right about that.”

   “So if this all ends tomorrow,” Liara smiles slyly, “if you wake up and the war is over, what happens to us?”

   It’s my turn to shrug.  “Who knows?  I mean, I know what I said before, but... you’re not even old enough to carry children, are you?”

   “No,” Liara confirms, “not for a long time yet.  If I enter the matron stage early, it will be perhaps two hundred years from now.” Her brow furrows with worry.  “Is that… I mean, would that… when you find me, will that…”

   “Hey,” I stroke her cheek soothingly, “the only thing I want is to spend my life with you.  Anything else I may or may not have thought about, and I haven’t really thought about having kids, is a distant second to that concern. It was intended as a joke.” I lean in and kiss her forehead.  “But that said, as far as I’m concerned, the marriage and old age bits are not negotiable.”

   Liara nods fiercely.  “All right then, let’s keep trying to get you out of here.  Embrace eternity!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've enjoyed my fanfic so far, please support my Kickstarter to fund production of my Burning Suns novels - keep me writing science fiction with kickass female characters! [Click here](https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/suntzugames/burning-suns-stories-conflagration) and thanks for any support you can give us.


	22. Dance Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liara

I do not know Lieutenant Vega well, so my trip to the shuttle bay is tinged with apprehension. I find his physical size and his odd sense of humour slightly intimidating. “Heya, Blue,” he greets me as he sees me approaching.  “Up and about?  You feeling better?”

   “Yes, somewhat, Lieutenant, thank you. How are you?”

   “Man, I’m itchin’. I gotta know what happened back there.  I mean, did we win?  Is that what that crazy red light was, the Crucible doing its thing?  And what happened to Lola? Shit, I mean, I know you have first dibs on bein’ worried about her, y’know, but I gotta say, Blue, I never expected it to bother me this much.”

   “Because you feel you didn’t know her well enough?”

   “Nah, I got to know her pretty good, all those months cooped up on Earth.  We never talked much, but you could see in the way she applied herself, she knew the shit was coming down.  She never let up, pushed as hard as she could, physically, mentally. When it hit, man, she was ready.  Just straight out there, straight into the fight like she’d been waiting her whole life for the moment.” He shakes his head as though still not able to believe everything he’s seen.  “And once we hooked up with you, and she didn’t have that black dog riding on her back, man, she went up a gear again. Truly awesome.”

   “Black dog?” I query, nonplussed; I do not see what domesticated canines of any colour have to do with me.

   “Sorry, Blue, old expression, means someone’s got a worry or a bad mood wearing them down all the time.” Vega reaches out to pat my arm with excessive force.  “Kinda like you right now.  Big ol’ black dog, ridin’ you down.”

   There is nothing I can say to contradict this.  “Indeed.”

   His face creases into a kind smile.  “Natural for you to worry, Blue, we don’t have good intel, and the way I hear it, you’re pretty used to being in the know.  But Lola’s a fighter. And though we don’t know, I think that red beam was the crucible firing, and I think that’s what Hackett’s message was supposed to be.  And I only know one jarhead _loco_ enough to have made it onto the Citadel.  So I hold to my theory that we’ll get back to find Lola sittin’ on a dead Reaper’s corpse, smoking a cigar the size of a stick of dynamite, with one of those drinks with the little umbrellas in it, and ready to get the party started.”

   The image of Shepard he has conjured is so ludicrous (she hates cigars, and drinks with little umbrellas) that I smile in spite of myself. Vega’s grin broadens in response.  “Hold that thought, Blue, it looks good on you.”

   “Thank you, James. I do feel a little better knowing that someone else can find the audacity to hope.”

   “Without hope, we ain’t got nothin’, Blue.  Lola taught me that.”  James rolls his shoulders and cricks his neck. “Man, I could really use a workout.  Don’t suppose you’d care for a little sparring session?”

   “Me?”  I’m surprised at the invite; I am the only member of the ground team on whom Vega has not tried to develop his hand-to-hand technique.  Whether he regards me as too delicate, or Shepard warned him off, I do not know, but the idea is appealing. Although my recent experience in sparring has been limited to occasional training with Shepard when time permits, on Illium I attended martial arts classes when not working, a habit born from my archaeology days, where I would learn forms that I could use for exercise routines in confined quarters. On the original Normandy, I learned to translate those forms to actual full-contact sparring with Shepard, Ash and Garrus, and became an enthusiastic participant in “dance evenings”.  Normally, I would not hesitate, but as I open my mouth to accept the challenge, my leg twinges.  “I’m sorry, James,” I reply regretfully.  “My leg is not up to the stress of hand-to-hand combat right now.  Try me again in a few days.  I would enjoy the outlet, I think.”

   “I’ll put you on my dance card, Blue,” James grins. “I promise not to bust your pretty face or nothing.”

   I laugh softly.  “I’d like to see you try, Lieutenant.  Shepard hasn’t managed it yet, and she’s a lot quicker than you. And to date I believe I am the only crew member apart from Wrex ever to... how did she put it?  Oh, yes, “knock her on her ass” in the ring.”

   “Wait, what?” James sounds stunned.  “ _You_ knocked Shepard down? No way, Blue, I don’t buy it, not unless you used some of that harnessed dark energy shit.”

 

_Shepard is undefeated.  It is the first dance evening of our new tour, and with Wrex leaving us to return to Tuchanka, our illustrious Commander’s most serious competitors are seen to be Gunnery Chief Williams and Officer Vakarian. Neither has stepped up to the ring yet, but Private Dubyansky, Corporal Sinha, Ensign Beauchene and Lieutenant Chase have all either staggered or been carried from the canvas._

_“Who’s next?” Shepard demands, grinning manically around the room.  “Pressly? No? LaFlamme? Chakwas?”_

_“Don’t tempt, me, Shepard,” the doctor retorts, chuckling.  “I’m an outrageous cheat.”_

_Shepard laughs, a pure, relaxed sound, and my heart lifts to see her enjoying a moment of utter joy.  She swings around slowly, scanning the crowd.  “C’mon, Vakarian, get your bony Turian ass in here.”_

_Garrus cocks his head, considering, and exchanges a glance with Ashley.  The Gunnery Chief nods slowly, and winks, tapping at her omni-tool for a few seconds before making her way around to stand beside me as Garrus climbs through the ropes.  “All right, Shepard, but remember, you asked for it.”_

_“Bring it on, Vakarian, or are you gonna talk me to death?”  Shepard swings to face the Turian, raising her fists to a high guard, shifting her weight onto the balls of her feet.  Garrus begins to circle her, and the crowd begins to chant, split fifty-fifty between their CO and her trusted alien sidekick._

_“What are you up to, Chief?” Chakwas asks._

_“Divide and conquer,” Ashley chuckles.  “Placed a rollover bet for the next two bouts with Joker. Between us, Garrus and I have the best chance of taking her down. One of us starts, and if they get beat, they should at least take enough out of her engine to....aw, shit!”  Garrus is down; the move was so fast I didn’t see it, distracted by Ash’s explanation._

_“Looks like you have your work cut out for you, Chief,” Chakwas smirks as Garrus picks himself up, mandibles twitching sheepishly.  He bumps fists with Shepard and extricates himself from the ring._

_“Sorry, Ash, looks like you have most of the work to do,” he mumbles, gingerly pressing at his left mandible.  “Damn, she’s fast.”_

_“Yeah, well,” Ash’s voice is muffled as she struggles out of her uniform shirt.  “We’ll go seventy-five twenty-five on the take, in that case.”  Doffing her shirt, the Chief takes hold of one of the posts and vaults into the ring.  “C’mon, Skipper, let’s see you dance.”_

_Shepard’s grin gets even wider.  “Chief.  Always a pleasure.  Bring the thunder.”_

_As I watch Shepard and Ash feint and test each other, a germ of an idea forms in my mind.  I open my omni-tool and contact Joker.  “Joker, may I place a bet?”_

_“Uh, sorry, Liara, not on this bout. It’s started already.”_

_“Fine.  I will place two hundred credits on Shepard being defeated in the next bout.”_

_“Not sure anyone will step up if Ash can’t drop her.”_

_“Someone will.  I’m sure of it.”_

_“OK, Doc, it’s your money.  Two hundred credits it is.”_

_Chakwas shoots me a sidelong glance. “At the risk of sounding like a broken record, what are you up to, Liara?”_

_I do my best to look innocent as Shepard deftly unlocks Williams’ guard and unloads a thunderous right cross with her full weight behind it.  “Oh, nothing, I just thought I might...oh Goddess, Ashley!”_

_Gunnery Chief Williams is flat out on the deck, and Shepard quickly kneels beside her, looking concerned. Chakwas darts through the ropes as the downed Marine sits up, massaging her jaw.  “Good one, Skipper,” she murmurs thickly before spitting a gob of blood onto the canvas._

_“Sorry, Chief, you didn’t give me much option but to put you down hard,” Shepard semi-apologises, semi-congratulates.  “You’re too good to take chances with. Hell of a dance.”_

_Chakwas nods an all clear, and Shepard pulls Williams to her feet and clasps her in a quick bear hug before letting  the doctor assist the Chief from the ring.  “Anyone else for a pounding?” Shepard demands of the cheering crowd.  Nervous now, I shrug out of my lab tunic and step forward._

_“I’ll try, if I may, Commander.”_

_Shepard’s mouth drops open; she stares at me as total silence falls over the cargo bay. The moment freezes, and despite my nerves I chuckle inwardly as I duck under the ropes and enter the ring.  I can see Joker working his interface frantically as a new wave of bets on Shepard are doubtless being placed.  If anyone has bet on her to remain undefeated, he stands to lose a great deal of credits. In light of what just happened to Williams, it must be hard for anyone to imagine I even have a hope of success. In truth, I’m not at all confident that I do, but I do have a plan.  “What’s the matter, Commander?” I ask as casually as I can, slipping on the padded, fingerless mitts that will protect my knuckles._

_Rachel eyes me warily; she has sparred with me often enough to know I am not a pushover, and she clearly senses a trap, but her blood is up and she cannot quite outfight her own adrenaline.  “If you’re sure, T’Soni,” she shrugs, taking a guard stance._

_“Yeah! C’mon, Doc!” yells a lone voice from the crowd.  I nod and pop in my gumshield, bracing my stance and lifting my hands to a relaxed guard.  Shepard jabs at my head, and I move off, deflecting the blow with my forearm. The pain is surprising; usually when we spar for fitness, Shepard pulls her punches._

_And now I must confess; I have also been holding back a little in our training sessions, focusing on learning rather than winning.  Asari are possessed of far faster reflexes than humans, turians, or krogan; it is this speed of reaction, combined with a high strength to weight ratio, that makes our commandos so deadly, as we are often far stronger and quicker than the enemy expects.  Well trained individuals of other species are aware of this, and try to compensate, but even so, in anyone other than a commando, it is an often overlooked physiological trait.  Now, in spite of my physical advantages, I am still no match for Shepard as a fighter, point for point. But I have been training hard since I joined the Normandy,  Shepard’s sparring moves are familiar to me, she is tired after six bouts, and it is becoming apparent that, moved by some odd sense of chivalry, she will not go all out in trying to defeat me.  She will look for an opportunity to trip or throw me without really hurting me, confident that I am not as great a threat as Ashley or Garrus ._

_We circle each other for a while, testing, and I dodge a few direct attacks.  I tend to telegraph my intentions, so I wait, simply defending, hoping that a chance will present itself before I make too obvious an error and wind up on the deck.  The shouting and cheering is intensifying, and I can hear my name being chanted.  Shepard stalks around me with her customary lethal grace, and the play of her finely honed muscles beneath her skin nearly undoes me as, distracted, I lose my focus and drop my guard a fraction.  Shepard attacks immediately, sensing my wavering attention, and, perversely, hands me the opportunity I am waiting for.  She pulls her punch just a little too much, allows me just a little too much room, a little too much time.  I twist my upper body aside, reaching through Shepard’s suddenly opened guard to grab her vest, and yank her forward with all my strength, pivoting to follow the movement my initial twist began, and pushing my hip out.  Shepard’s own momentum is added to the force of my pull, and suddenly, Commander Shepard is sprawled against the ropes of the ring, on the floor for the first time since before Virmire.  There’s a beat of silence, then a huge cheer shakes the shuttle bay. Pressly claps his hands together to call time, and the crew begin to meander back to their posts or off-duty haunts._

_“Liara, you genius!” Joker shrieks at me over the omni-tool.  “I just cleaned up! You were 10-1, so that puts you on two grand! If you warn me next time, I can finesse things a little better, though.”_

_“All right.  But do me a favour and split my pot three ways with Garrus and Ashley.  It was a team effort.”  I step over to Shepard and offer my hand with a smile.  “Are you all right?”_

_She grins bashfully as she takes my hand and I haul her to her feet.  “Fine. Just a little bruised ego.  I should have remembered you’re stronger and quicker than you look.”  Waving to the crowd, she ducks under the ropes and holds them for me.  We head back to her cabin, and she smiles cockily at me as she drops her gloves in her foot locker.  “So, did you like whatever it was you were staring at back there?”_

_I cross the cabin to stand in front of her, and stroke my hand across her taut belly, enjoying the way her muscles tighten in response to the caress.  “Very much,” I murmur, leaning in to plant a kiss on her jaw. “I do so enjoy the sight of your body, Commander Shepard.” I nip gently at her earlobe with my teeth._

_“ Li-ara,” she breathes, shivering at my touch.  She kisses my cheek, then pulls back.  “I’m all sweaty.”_

_“I don’t really care.  I am too. And what I have in mind will only make it worse.”_

_“Well, when you put it like that...”_

 

James shakes my shoulder, bringing me back to the present.  “Blue?  You still with me?”

“What?  Oh, yes.  Sorry, James, I was just remembering...  What were you saying?”

“I was saying no way you could knock down Lola without biotics.”

I step close to him, wrap my arms around his waist and jerk him clean off his feet, swinging him around the way I have seen him swing Traynor to scare her.  He lets out a yelp, and I set him down.  “Don’t be so sure, Lieutenant,” I toss over my shoulder as I turn to leave, and in the back of my mind, I can hear Rachel laughing.


	23. A Day in the Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard

There’s a deep comfort to be found in the little things in life. In taking the time to enjoy a simple day where nothing is remarkable, but nothing is wrong. On this perfectly normal day, I awake with my lover draped over me. That's still a novelty, so the day begins with a certain frisson of excitement. Liara doesn’t stir as I extricate myself from her embrace, and I plant a stealthy kiss on her brow before heading down to the cargo bay in my sweats to run through my morning workout.

   Ash is up and about, and willingly puts me through my paces with the bag, weights, and some light-contact sparring.  “So, still nothing to be seen outside, I hear,” the Chief notes after a few minutes of the bout, hooking into my body. I walk back off the punch and let her overstep.  “We’re wasting our time.”

   “Maybe,” I allow, circling, waiting, trying not to let my own frustration creep into my voice.

   “Maybe?  C’mon, Skipper, don’t give me that.  I’m a Williams – I can smell a dead-end posting a relay jump away.  They’ve got us cooling our heels – the geth are long gone from anywhere near this sector.”

   “Say you’re right, for the sake of argument,” I rejoin, snapping a left cross against Ash’s guard, “how do we account for the missing ships? Three in this system, all human, in the past month. Five in the next system over in the same time period.  That seems like too much activity for slavers.  And three days isn’t long enough to be sure.  We need to be patient.”

   “I call bullshit, Skipper,” Ash grins, jabbing at my head.  “The Council’s trying to whitewash Sovereign, make out like it was some giant uber-geth. Are you really going to let them do that to you?  To us?”

   “Course not, but we need to be careful about how we approach it. Always remember to be sure, Chief, that the toes you step on today are not connected to the ass you may have to kiss tomorrow.”

   Ash chuckles even as she blocks my attempted uppercut.  “Is that an Anderson fortune cookie?”

   “Nah, that’s a Shepard one, although I’m sure it was stolen from somewhere.  My Grandpa used to use it all the time.” I fend off a wicked cross, then hold up my hand to halt the bout. “For now, we play nice, and we do some digging in the background to see what else we can find out.  Liara’s following up a few leads in the research literature, and if we can prove the geth have high-tailed it back to the Perseus Veil we’ll have a lot more credibility.” Grabbing my water bottle, I suck down a quick drink.  “Shower time.  Thanks for the dance, Chief.”

   “Anytime, Skipper. And thanks for the wide-angle view.”

   Pleasantly buzzed from my workout, I head back to my cabin.  Liara is awake, wearing one of my N7 issue t-shirts and sipping a cup of tea as she studies the terminal monitor.  “Good morning,” I greet her, dropping a light kiss on her crests as I pass.  “Did you stay up late again?”

   “Mmm.  I got caught up in a paper, and did some corollary literature searches.  By the time I realised I was tired, it was oh four hundred.” She smiles up at me.  “I’m sorry if I disturbed you.”

   “You didn’t. Was there anything useful in the paper?”

   Liara nods, eyes alight with enthusiasm.  “Nothing relevant to the Reapers, but it postulated a fascinating hypothesis regarding the Prothean civilisation’s socio-economic structure.  I have seen the idea posited before, but never with such an elegant analysis attached.  It was remarkably…” she trails off, bites her lower lip for a second, and smiles ruefully.  “Goddess, I don’t know why you bother with me, Rachel.  No, there was nothing useful. In short, I got completely sidetracked and sat up half the night thinking about Prothean economics and goods distribution networks.” She looks so crestfallen that I can’t help but laugh.

   Don’t worry about it, Li,” I chuckle, “you can’t spend all your time working, and clearly you enjoyed yourself.  I’m sorry if my snoring distracted you.”  

   “You don’t snore,” Liara assures me with a perplexed frown. 

   “Good to know.  I’m gonna hit the shower, then we have daily staffs in thirty minutes.”

   “All right.  Would you like some coffee?”

   “I would, thanks. You spoil me, sweetheart.”

   Liara smiles a satisfied smile. “I know.”

   Staffs throws up the usual array of routine maintenance and discipline issues, with Adams and Chakwas happy to confirm excellent health in their respective areas of responsibility.  Grenado is keen to try out some armament upgrades Garrus has suggested, which I agree to pending Adam’s assessment of the impact on our power efficiency. Garrus, replacing Kaidan as platoon commander, reports no issues with his team, and Chase updates us on our emergency drill performance, where I am pleased to hear we are rating ‘excellent’ in all areas. Pressly remarks on the absence of any hostile activity whatsoever over the past three days. Joker has nothing of interest to report. Tali then provides a cultural reference briefing on the geth’s history, which gives Liara an opportunity to indulge her curiosity.  Eventually, as Pressly’s eyes start to glaze over, Joker starts pretending to throttle himself, and Tali’s voice becomes shrill with desperation, I’m forced to intervene, breaking the meeting up on the pretext of firearms drill.

   Liara is not fooled, and pinches my side playfully as the elevator grinds its interminable way down to the cargo deck.  “Spoilsport.”

   “You can interrogate Tali on your own time, sweetheart, although I think you were starting to scare her.”

   Liara glowers at me for a moment, then sighs.  “I _may_ … have got carried away,” she admits grudgingly.

   “That was apparent.”  I lean in and skim a kiss across her cheek.  “You’re adorable when you pout like that, by the way.”

   Liara arches her eyebrow markings at me suggestively.  “How adorable?”

  I back her against the wall and kiss her possessively, running my fingers up the nape of her neck until she whimpers with pleasure.  “That adorable,” I breathe in her aural cavity as the elevator doors rumble open.  “Now, c’mon, the new pistol I ordered for you arrived with our supply shipment yesterday.  I want to see how you get on with it.”

 

Weapons drill, lunch, tactical analysis, fire safety drill, engineering deck maintenance assessment, dinner, and reports; the day keeps me gainfully occupied, and it’s not until well after twenty-one hundred hours that I close down my terminal and stretch in my chair.  Liara is curled up on the bed, reading from a datapad. “What’s tonight’s topic?” I ask, crossing the room to sprawl on the bed beside her.  “Health and safety in the Prothean workplace? Waste disposal and recycling protocols of the Garvug megalopolis? Agricultural…”

   Without looking up, Liara hefts one of the pillows and swats me with it to silence me.  “Quarian history,” she informs me primly.  “Tali pointed me to a text that she thought might be of interest.”

   “Anything to shut you up, huh?”

   “Mmm,” she answers absently, lost once again in her reading; when she’s studying, her concentration is so intense that she often does not hear me talking. I can see from her expression that she’s fascinated, and I find myself smiling goofily at the thought that I am lucky enough to get to see Liara so content. Shaking my head helplessly in recognition of my own patheticness, I amble out onto the crew deck to fix us both some hot chocolate, where I find Tali raiding the cabinets.  “Oh, hey, Shepard. Do you know where Dubyansky put the dextro food supplies?  I’m feeling a little peckish.”

   I point to the cabinet at the far end of the galley.  “See that blue tape on the door – he and Bakari marked the cabinet for you.” Opening the beverage drawer, I fish out two chocolate powders.  Tali hands me two mugs from the drying rack.  “Thanks.  Busy day?”

   “Yes.  Adams let me do the upgrades with Grenado.  It was really interesting work, a proper challenge.  If I’d wired it up wrong I could have blown up the ship.”

   “Yeah.  Didn’t need to know that, thanks, Tali,” I chuckle.  “I assume from the fact we’re still all in one piece that you wired it up right?”

   Tali laughs.  “You can safely assume that, yes, Shepard.” 

   “And hiding in the ducts all day let you give Liara the slip, right?”

    Tali twitches guiltily.  “I… _keelah_ , I know what I was told in school, but I’m no expert on our people’s past.”

   “Hey, I totally understand, she’s like a charging krogan when something gets her attention.  I’d have done the same in your shoes… boots… enviro-suit… ah, never mind,” I peter out as Tali cocks her head in confusion.  “Human saying, don’t mind me.” 

   “If you say so, Shepard,” she agrees dubiously. “Did she like the book?”

   “Reading it right now.” I lean in close, dropping my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “No doubt she’ll have questions tomorrow.”

   Tali giggles nervously.  “I think I’ll ask Adams if I can manually empty the bilge tanks in the morning.”

   “We don’t have bilge tanks, Tali.”

   “I’ll build some.” She opens the marked cabinet and looks inside.  “Hey, there’s nothing in here!”

   I frown.  “What? I’m sure I saw Alexei packing that cupboard earlier,” I assure the quarian as I walk over and peer into the cabinet with her.  Sure enough, it’s empty, but an explanation quickly suggests itself.  “Hmmm.  If I were you, Tali, I’d check the main battery before you haul poor Dubyansky out of his pod.”

   Tali’s breath hisses metallically through her mask pickup.  “Vakarian!  Oooh, that no-good, double-crossing Turian _bosh’stet_ , I’ll… Thanks Shepard, catch you later.” Tali hurries forward in the direction of the battery, and I collect my drinks and beat a retreat to my cabin.  I don’t want to be caught in the cross-fire of the dextro-ration wars.

   Liara’s late night has taken its toll; she is asleep on the bed, datapad tipped into her lap.  Smiling, I set her chocolate on her bedside table, retrieve the datapad and put it on the desk.  I change for bed then settle beside her and shake her gently.  “Li?”

   She groans and her eyes flutter open.  “Mmm, Rachel… I… Goddess, did I nod off?”

   “Yeah.  Quarian history must be riveting.”

   Liara yawns.  “It _is_ fascinating, but I think last night is taking its toll.”

   I nod towards the bedside table as I take a sip from my mug.  “I made you some hot chocolate.”

   Liara leans in to peck my cheek.  “Thank you, that was thoughtful.”

   We drink in companionable silence, and by the time Liara drains her cup she is yawning almost continuously.  “I think I need an early night,” she groans, sitting up to unbutton her jacket.  “I can go to the lab if you want to stay up.”

   “Nah, an early night sounds like a good idea.”  I finish my drink and enjoy the spectacle of Liara getting undressed.  “God, you’re beautiful.”

   “Flatterer.”  Liara climbs into bed and I slide under the covers, facing her as she wriggles close.  She reaches out to play with my ear; she’s fascinated by the bits of anatomy we don’t share.  “You know, I never imagined my expedition to Therum would turn out like this.”

   “And I didn’t think my posting as XO of the Normandy would be anything like it has.  I thought it’d be routine missions, learning the ropes of command from a legend, dealing with aliens only now and again.  I still don’t really believe I’m a Spectre half the time, and now all of a sudden I have my own command, some close alien friends and a beautiful, smart asari girlfriend. How’d I get this lucky?”

   “I think I should be the one asking that,” Liara grins.  “After all, what were the chances of my falling for the only person on the ship with a proper bed?”

   I burst out laughing.  “Oh, I get it. It’s not me you love, it’s the perks?”

   Liara’s fingers still against my face, and she leans closer.  “No,” she says quite solemnly, “it’s you I love.”

   For a moment, I’m stunned.  Did I hear that right?  Did she say… She did.  I’m not surprised by the admission as such, since I can feel what she feels when we meld, but this is the first time she’s put words to it. I reach up to reciprocate her caress, laying my hand on her cheek.

   “Well,” I murmur, “that sounds serious.”

   “I am serious.”

   “Then you’re extremely lucky that I feel the same way.”  I run my hand gently back along her crests.  “I love you too, Liara.”

   We fall asleep together, at peace.

   Twenty-four hours later, I’ll be dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've enjoyed my fanfic so far, please support my Kickstarter to fund production of my Burning Suns novels - keep me writing science fiction with kickass female characters! [Click here](https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/suntzugames/burning-suns-stories-conflagration) and thanks for any support you can give us.


	24. And All My Dreams, Torn Asunder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liara

I dream again, this time of the end of the SR-1 – talking to James about our final few days aboard the original Normandy has roused recollections I would have preferred to remain undisturbed. The parallels with our current situation are all too obvious. Woken by my nightmare, I huddle miserably in Shepard's bed, clutching the sheets close, the memory and the dream replaying over and over, twisting the knife of my grief. _Trapped in the confines of the escape shuttle, attention never leaving the telemetry interface, watching as the Normandy's little fleet of emergency evacuation pods drift farther and farther apart…_

* * *

 

It takes sixteen hours for the Alliance cruiser Yorktown to reach us. Nervous exhaustion has wrung me out, sitting still for so long has cramped my muscles, and I require the assistance of two of the Yorktown's crewmen to climb out of the escape pod. One of them, barely more than a child, recoils as he realises I am not human. Dr. Chakwas glares at him as she joins us on the cargo deck. "Is there a problem, Private?" she demands.

"Uh, no ma'am, it's just... well, she's not Alliance, and..."

"Dr. T'Soni is a member of Commander Shepard's SPECTRE operations team, and holds a far higher security clearance than you do, my lad," Chakwas barks, an uncharacteristically military snap to her tone. "She was instrumental in co-ordinating the evacuation of the Normandy's crew, to say nothing of her being a recipient of the Star of Terra, and is to be treated with the respect and courtesy due any superior officer. Am I clear, marines?"

The chagrined soldiers' reply is drowned out by a familiar shout. "Doc!" Gunnery Chief Williams, armour black with soot from fire-fighting, shoulders her way through the growing crowd of curious humans gathering around us. "Thank God you're both OK," she says thickly, hugging first Chakwas and then me.

"Have you seen anyone else, Ashley?" I ask, trying to remind myself that everything will be fine. I saw the bridge pod launch on the emergency telemetry systems in our pod.

"Tali, Garrus, and Adams were in a pod with me," Ashley replies. "We were all down on the cargo deck when the first blast hit."

_I had been in Shepard's cabin, peer-reviewing a scientific paper while Rachel wrote up her mission report. It had been a quiet evening, the routine of doing paperwork together one of the slightly domesticated habits we were just settling into. When the first shot hit, Shepard moved like lightning, dropping everything and yelling over her shoulder, "Get your hardsuit, Li, and meet me at damage control."_

_Hardsuit drill has been a feature of my life for months now, and I let Lieutenant Chase's stringent training take over, snapping my armour into place as quickly as any veteran. Despite my speed, the evac alarm begins to wail before I finish. Just that quickly, the Normandy is dying. On my way to meet Shepard I run into Ensign Beauchene, who informs me frantically that he cannot get Joker to leave his post. I direct him to evacuate, and pick my way across the burning crew deck to damage control. The sight of our ship, our home, in flames makes me want to weep, but the appalling danger we are in keeps me focused. I have one priority - to make sure Rachel and I both get off the ship alive._

_Rachel's priorities, however, are not mine. As soon as I reach her, she's talking. "Distress beacon away."_

_"Will the Alliance get here in time?" I demand._

_There's a telling hesitation, then she nods, face obscured by her helmet. "The Alliance won't abandon us. We just have to hold on. I need you to get everyone onto the escape shuttles." Shepard tosses me a fire extinguisher._

_"Joker's still on the bridge. He won't evacuate." I set my jaw inside my helmet as I put out the fires rearing up around the damage control console. "I'm not leaving either."_

_"Liara," she says firmly, "I need you to get the crew into the evac shuttles. I'll take care of Joker." Another blast rocks the ship, and Shepard staggers as the deck bucks beneath her._

_"Shepard…" I draw breath for one last attempt, but she cuts me off._

_"Liara, go!" Shepard's voice is her purest command-deck snap, but in spite of herself, she pauses for a long moment, the silence freighted with the knowledge of how we feel about each other. "Now!"_

_I cannot object. To do so would waste time we no longer have. Rachel, I love you, I want to say, but all I can choke out is "Aye aye," a conditioned response to my commanding officer's order. I wait one more second, then turn away to obey._

"Has anyone seen the Skipper?" Ashley's voice draws me back to reality; the Chief is looking at me expectantly. "She was off-duty, right, Liara?"

"Joker wouldn't leave his post," I explain. "Shepard went to get him."

Ashley mutters something short and vile-sounding under her breath. "Of all the stupid... well, if he's been in the bridge pod with Shepard all this time, I bet she's chewed his ass out good and proper. There's no excuse for failure to obey an evac order - it's a court-martial offence."

"Shepard wouldn't charge him, would she?"

"I doubt it," Chakwas reassures me. "She'll have put her time with him to good use in reinforcing the lesson, as the Chief said."

"Liara!" Another familiar voice, but relieved though I am to hear it, Tali's voice is not the one I am straining to hear. The quarian girl runs to me, with Garrus following at a more sedate pace, and hugs me fiercely. " _Keelah_ , I was so worried about you. Have you seen Shepard?"

"We think she's in the bridge pod with Joker," Ashley answers.

"That's good, I heard one of the crew from this ship say they were bringing it in now," Garrus informs us. "Up at the far end."

I lead our little team along the deck, nerves jangling. The waves part before us, mostly due to the Normandy's crew forcing a corridor for us. Ash, Garrus, Tali and I are Shepard's ground team, her literal comrades-in-arms, and our crew are fiercely proud of us, fiercely protective, and pleased to see us. All along the cargo deck, our shaken, scared comrades straighten their backs, smile, and even reach out to touch our arms and shoulders.

With each touch, each smiling face, my fears ease a little. So many have survived, and the bridge pod was successfully launched. Rachel will be inside, half-scolding Joker for his mistake, half-consoling him on the loss of his beloved ship. She must be; the alternative is unthinkable. She will be worried for me as well, as she will be for all of her crew, but I am the one her eyes will search for first.

We reach the pod, where we encounter a stern-faced blonde woman with a Captain's stripes on her shoulders. She frowns at us as we approach. "What's this?" She surveys the group, picks out Ashley. "Marine, would you care to explain the presence of these aliens?"

Ash snaps to attention and offers a smart salute. "Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams reporting, ma'am. May I present my colleagues Officer Garrus Vakarian, C-Sec, Engineer Tali'Zorah nar Rayya, and Dr. Liara T'Soni, ground team specialists attached to the Normandy under Commander Shepard's SPECTRE authority."

"Ah, I see." The blonde captain offers a smile. "I should have realized. I'm Captain Petrova, skipper of the Yorktown. Welcome aboard, all of you, though I'm sorry to be hosting you in such circumstances. Now, shall we get your pilot and your CO out of there?"

One of the Yorktown's crew shoulders past me to whisper in his Captain's ear. Petrova's smile fades. "You're sure?"

The crewman nods grimly, and a chill runs down my spine. Something is wrong.

"Get a crash cart down here, stat," Petrova orders. She turns to us. "We're only picking up one life sign inside."

I don't take it in immediately, but Ashley turns to the Normandy crew member nearest her. "Get Chakwas, now!" she bellows. "Tali..."

Tali already has hold of my arm, squeezing me tightly as Petrova barks an order. "Get it open, now!" Her crew comply swiftly, even as Chakwas arrives at a run. The pod hisses open.

There is a moment of perfect stillness, as though the universe is holding its breath.

Joker steps from the pod, lurching awkwardly as his weak legs give way. Ashley steps in to catch him. His face is ashen and streaked with tears, and on seeing us, he begins to cry again. Ashley shakes him gently. "Joker? Joker! Where's Shepard? Where's the skipper?"

One of Petrova's crew looks into the pod. "No one else, ma'am," he reports in a hushed voice.

"Joker, where's Commander Shepard?" Adams has stepped up to assist Ashley.

"It's my fault," Joker whispers. He meets my gaze for a split second, the drops his head. "I didn't mean for it to happen, I..." Tali's grip on my arm tightens, and Chakwas puts her arm around my shoulders.

"Lieutenant, pull yourself together and answer the damn question!" Petrova's command snaps through the sudden shocked silence like a whip-crack. "Where is your CO?"

Ashley and Adams glare at her, but the reprimand achieves what soft language has failed to; it momentarily brings Joker out of the cloud of his grief. He looks directly at me, his face the embodiment of guilty misery, and I suddenly understand. Rachel is not inside the pod. She was still on the ship. _Oh no. No, no no, this isn't happening!_ My knees buckle, and only the support from Chakwas and Tali stops me from hitting the deck as Joker speaks. "C-commander Shepard was spaced by a direct hit on the bridge superstructure as we tried to evacuate. She... she was right in the path of the laser when... w-when it fired. I wasn't able to establish a connection with her hardsuit comms. Shepard... Shepard's gone, Captain. She sacrificed herself to...to get me out. It's my fault, _my fault_ ; I didn't want to leave. I didn't listen. I _made_ her come to get me." He breaks down again, sobbing against Ashley's shoulder.

"No!" I scream, panic churning up my throat. I cannot believe it. She can't be gone, not like this, not in such a mean fashion. Pain seizes my chest, chokes off my breath. There is a hollow, roaring sound in my ears, and the world seems to be receding, fading away. "No," I moan again, over and over, as though repeating it will somehow negate Joker's words. "Rachel, no! Please!"

Tali's sobs ring in my ears as she holds me, and through the veil of my tears I see Garrus move to help Adams with Joker, leaving Ash to deal with the situation the only way she knows how. She straightens to attention. "Captain, I beg leave to report Commander Shepard missing in action."

Petrova shakes her head. "Chief, it's a tempting hope," she says kindly, "but even if Commander Shepard wasn't caught by the enemy weapons, a hardsuit has a maximum air supply of four hours. It is impossible that she survived. I have to log her as killed in action. I'm sorry for your loss, Chief." She glances down at me, her eyes filled with pity and compassion and sighs heavily. "I hope for her sake the laser did hit; at least that way she won't have suffered. And I'm sorry to have to do this, but I can't un-hear what I just heard. Mr De Vries!"

"Ma'am?" A burly giant of a man steps through the throng.

"Take Lieutenant Moreau to the med-bay and see that he's sedated. He is to be confined to sick quarters, pending court-martial charges for failing to obey an order to abandon ship." Petrova sighs again. "Be gentle with him, Piet, he's had a bad enough day already."

"Aye aye." De Vries gestures to Adams, and the two begin to help Joker away. Petrova returns her attention to Ashley. "Who's your ranking officer, Chief?"

"Well, Pressly's dead, so I guess..."

"That would be me, Captain," Chakwas volunteers. "Major Chakwas, Chief Medical Officer."

"Major, stand your crew to," Petrova instructs.

Chakwas, still holding me, nods curtly. "Chief Williams, if you would be so kind."

Ashley snaps off a salute; a tiny part of me recognises that protocol is the only thing holding the Chief together. "SSV Normandy!" she thunders in her best parade-ground bawl. "Attention to orders! Ten-hut!"

As one, the Normandy's survivors snap to, the sound echoing around the Yorktown's cargo deck like a gunshot. Petrova nods in approval. "SSV Yorktown, attention to orders! Ten-hut!" A second salvo of boots on metal echoes around the bay; the Yorktown's crew may be less invested, but they are no less precise. In times of death and glory, the Systems Alliance Navy is one ship, one crew.

Gunnery Chief Williams takes a deep breath; the entire bay is at her beck and call. "Honours to the fallen! Commander Rachel Shepard, Hero of the Citadel, first human Spectre, Hero of Elysium, Officer Commanding, SSV Normandy, and first among all these things, a Systems Alliance Marine! _Semper fi_!"

"Oo-rah!" The ancient war-cry leaps from the throat of every human present, prickling the skin all over my body, but there is no solace for me in this bellicose ritual. Sobbing uncontrollably, my head spinning, I crash to the deck in spite of Tali's support as my world shatters around me.

_Rachel is dead. Oh Goddess..._


	25. You Can't Go Home Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard

The door to the loft hisses shut and I dump my hardsuit duffel on the floor, looking around the space that is my new home.  I’m sure it’s comfortable and spacious and all, but right now it feels as eerie and lonely as Freedom’s Progress.  The abandoned colony is far behind us, along with my brief joy at seeing Tali alive and well. Suddenly, I have a ship called the Normandy, with Joker at the helm, but she flies the flag of terrorists and murderers. Tali is gone; she has responsibilities, too much to do to simply drop everything and follow me. Miranda Lawson watches me like a scientist assessing a lab rat, and I’m sure every observation is being filed for her boss. Jacob Taylor is all spit-and-polish and fight-the-good-fight, but closed up tighter than a volus’ wallet behind the G.I. Joe facade. The faces in the CIC that will look to me for guidance are strangers, with no ranks, not much in the way of protocol, no clear chain of command, and certainly no loyalty to me. My conversation with the Illusive Man has made it abundantly clear that I can expect no improvement on that front; whatever it is he really wants from me does not include me reconnecting with my crew, and my team, the people I had come to trust…and love.

_What the fuck am I doing here?_

   The enormity of my disconnection from everything I knew and held dear suddenly rears up to hit me in the brain.

 _Liara_.

   I’ve tried to avoid thinking about her, and the pace of developments has been such that it’s been easy to focus on being busy, but now, with time to kill en route to Omega, my lover storms to the forefront of my thoughts.  Taylor confirmed she’d got off the wreck of the Normandy alive, thank Christ, but no one seems to know where she is.  Tali couldn’t tell me, and Cerberus can’t – or won’t. I want to know, I _need_ to know, but… _two years_.

   _Holy Christ._

   I’ve been… _gone_ … for two years. (I shy away from ‘dead’ as a description.  I blacked out, I woke up, it’s happened to me hundreds of times.  Death is now just an advanced coma, apparently.  Who knew?) I’ve known Liara for barely four months, but now, those four months, my last four months, are a memory two years gone to anyone I lived them with.  She doesn’t know I’m alive.  She must believe me dead.  She must have mourned me.

   _She must have moved on._

   I feel hollow and cold at the thought.  

_Liara’s fingers still against my face, and she leans closer.  “No,” she says quite solemnly, “it’s you I love.”_

   The memory is etched into my brain with scalpel-sharp clarity. I can’t refute the truth; my memory is one thing, but the unequivocal honesty of the melds we shared is a two-edged sword, shearing through the fabric of any denial I might try to weave, that she was simply infatuated, or I was simply curious; that it was just sex, a primal urge brought on by stress, a quick fling that meant nothing beyond short-term gratification. I can’t pretend it didn’t matter, to me or to her.  It mattered a great deal to both of us. She loved me; I loved her. Closing my eyes, I can still recall with perfect clarity how it feels to share her mind, touch her soul, make love to her.  I keep imagining, and my body begins to respond.  If nothing else, at least it’s further proof that I seem to have been put back together right. _Don’t do this to yourself, Rachel._   _C’mon, focus…_

   Opening my eyes, seeking a distraction, I am greeted by the sterile, impersonal cabin once more. I wonder whose idea the fish tank was.  If I was in any way inclined toward keeping a pet on a starship, a fish would be about the last thing I’d choose.  Being a spacer kid, I’ve never really had a lot of exposure to animals. Still, watching the fronds of seaweed wafting lazily in the current is oddly soothing, and pet accommodations notwithstanding, Cerberus have clearly done their homework with regards to trying to make me comfortable. The model ship display wall is a nod to a hobby I rarely have time for anymore, the armoury and inventory interface means I can tinker with my gear, my locker is stocked with uniforms and sports gear, and even one tasteful evening dress in black with matching shoes (Miranda’s handiwork, no doubt). But it’s all just a little too carefully researched, a little too earnest, and far too soulless. Like the ship and the crew.

   I walk over to the office area to check my terminal, and notice the photoframe standing by the comm interface.  Curious, I tap the edge of the frame to activate it, and my heart clenches as Liara’s face resolves on the screen. It’s ripped from her work profile at Serrice University, and her demeanour is completely sober and professional, but God, just to see her sets my pulse racing.

   Fury at the Illusive Man, at Miranda, at Joker, at everyone involved in this fucking charade erupts suddenly, blazing through me in a hot, spiky wave that leaves me gasping for breath. _You bring me back from the dead (not that I’m ungrateful), upgrade me here and there, play my conscience like a damn violin, transplant me into this cheerless copy of my ship, stick Joker in the cockpit and a picture of Liara in my cabin, and I’m supposed to believe that you’re on my side, doing this all for the greater good, piling all of your resources into my personal happily ever after out of sheer altruism?  How_ fucking _stupid do you think I am? And leaving me a picture of her when you’re trying to keep her from me…_

   Incensed, needing a physical outlet for my rage, I hurl the photo against the wall, darkly gratified when the screen shatters with a satisfying crack.  Sinking to my knees, I cup my hands over my mouth and drag in several deep breaths, trying to bring my raging emotions under control.  I recognise dimly that the greater part of my anger is not about Cerberus, not about the strings attached to my resurrection.  I don’t want to be dead, of course I would rather be here now than shovelled into a coffin, but _fuck_ , I was so happy.  I had everything I’d imagined I could have wanted, I had _perfection_ , and it’s been ripped away in ten minutes of fire. Liara thinks I’m dead, my Mom thinks I’m dead, everyone who ever cared about me has consigned me to memory, a ghost to be toasted at gatherings, a funny story to be shared at the bar, a rite of passage to be endured.  My only ally is the jackass who got me killed. I want this to be some sort of nightmare, I want to wake up in Liara’s arms and be comforted. I want her back. 

   Christ Almighty, _I want her back_.

   The door chime sounds, a muted, respectful call for attention, dragging me back from the brink of despair. I’m torn between the desire to ignore it, and the need to avoid my situation, to escape the deafening silence in this antiseptic cipher of a cabin.  The latter wins out and hey, yelling at Operative Lawson or Operative Taylor might be cathartic. I’ve been more than patient with this situation.  I’m owed some answers.  “Come in!” I bark, my best command-deck snarl. _Now hear this, the CO is royally pissed._

   The door opens, and I get the third big shock of my second life.  Joker, the Normandy, and now... “Commander Shepard.  I watched the Normandy crumble with you still on board. It’s good to see you alive.”  Dr. Chakwas is standing in the doorway, in a Cerberus medical uniform, a huge smile gracing her refined features. Shock roots me to the spot, my jaw hanging open, my anger leaking away. Chakwas arches an immaculate eyebrow at me. “Close your mouth, Commander, you’re not a guppy fish.”

   The spell breaks, and I feel a matching grin ignite across my own face. “God, it’s nice to see a familiar face, Doc,” I greet her, wrapping her up in a fierce hug.

   “I feel the same way, Shepard.  I only wish more of the original crew could be here.”  She returns my hug, and I lead her to the lounge area of the cabin. She sits down opposite me.  “I spoke to Miranda and Jacob about Freedom’s Progress, and Tali.”

   “Yeah, it was weird. Properly, creepy weird.  By the time Tali showed up, it was almost like she was the most normal part of the whole experience. Aside from the guns, the explosions and the malevolent synthetic lifeforms, of course.”

   Chakwas bursts out laughing.  “The kind of trauma you’ve endured would have changed most people, but not you, I see.” She stretches across to pat my knee. “Welcome back, Shepard.”

   “Thanks, Doc.” I regard her thoughtfully.  “You’ve been with the Alliance for years.  Why leave now, if it’s not too personal a question?”

   Chakwas sighs sadly. “After the Normandy was lost, the surviving crew were all reassigned. Didn’t want us ganging up to make trouble, I guess. I was stationed at the Mars Naval Medical Center. A very respectable position, but it wasn’t on a starship.”

   I feel my eyebrows shoot up.  “They _grounded_ you?”

   Chakwas nods. “Yes, and I didn’t care for it. I’ve spent most of my life on warships, never knowing what the next mission might bring. I’m used to the hum of engines, the creaking of bulkheads, that subtle vertigo when the momentum dampeners kick in.  Life planetside is too static, too boring.”

   “Spoken like a true spacer,” I grin.  I relate completely.  “But Cerberus seems a bit of a stretch.”

   “I don’t work for Cerberus,” Chakwas says disdainfully.  “I’ve taken a leave of absence, and I work for you. I know that your dealings with Cerberus will be ethical.  I trust you, Commander, and frankly, I think you’re going to need me.”

   “I think you might be right about that,” I admit. To have Chakwas on my crew is almost beyond price.  I can hardly believe my luck.  “Thanks, Doc.  I hope I can live up to that trust.”

   “I’ve no doubt of that, or I wouldn’t be here. You’ve spoken to Joker, I take it?” Chakwas asks.

   “Yeah, a bit.  I’m still not sure whether I want to hug him or smack him in the mouth.”

   “Either option would do equal damage, I’m sure,” Chakwas notes with a wry smile.  “Be gentle, if you can.  I can understand that you’d be angry with him, but the Alliance broke him over your death, and that was nothing compared to the damage he self-inflicted.”

   I don’t want to talk about Joker, or my death, not yet.  “I’ll try.  So, Jacob and Miranda, what’s your read?”  I know Chakwas to be an excellent judge of character, and she has had more time to get to know them.

   “Jacob is a good soldier, and like most good soldiers, he wants a cause to fight for,” Chakwas says thoughtfully.  “He wants what he does to matter, wants to make a difference. He wants to be a paragon of duty and right action. He’s a good man, but in my view he’s trying far too hard to be like you, and he doesn’t have anything like enough of the traits that make you…well, you.”

   I chuckle.  “Was there a compliment in there, Doc, or has my brain not been wired back up right?”

   Chakwas shoves my shoulder in rebuke.  “That’s exactly what I’m talking about.  To hear Jacob describe you, you sound like a cross between a benevolently programmed geth and a drill sergeant, all objectives-oriented and for-the-cause, with hospital corners and parade-ground spit-polish. It’s all I can do not to laugh and shatter his illusions.”

   “I can be all those things when I have to be,” I object.

   “That’s the point.  When you have to.  You can turn it off.  He can’t.” Chakwas’ grin fades.  “But Miranda, that’s a whole different kettle of fish.  Be careful with that one, Shepard.  She’s exceptionally smart, and exceptionally able. As I understand it, she was in charge of the whole project to put you back in the field.  She’s used to being the boss, but now you’re here, and you outrank her.  She’s not used to being second-in-command of her own project.”

   “I’m sure her boss doesn’t see her as second-in-command of anything.  I’m waiting for that shoe to drop.”

   “Clever girl,” Chakwas approves.  “They haven’t dulled your wits or your survival instincts.  I’d say you have two options.  Get her on side, or cut her out from the rest of the crew.  I’m afraid I don’t know her well enough to recommend one strategy or the other, though she seems perfectly civil.”

   “I’ll figure it out.  First thing to do is talk to her, I guess, and then make sure the ground team we recruit are taking orders only from me.”  Taking a deep breath, I ask my final question. “Doc… you wouldn’t happen to know anything about Liara, where she is, what she’s doing?  Tali didn’t know, and Cerberus won’t tell me anything.”

   Chakwas’ expression turns sorrowful.  “I’m terribly sorry, Shepard, I really have no idea.  After your funeral, she packed up and left without a word to anyone.  No one knows where she went.  I must admit, I’d thought Tali the most likely candidate, if Liara was going to stay in touch with anyone.  She was… not doing well.”

   “I need to find her,” I murmur, distressed by the notion of Liara, of all my friends, having attended my funeral. Chakwas reaches out to squeeze my shoulder. 

   “You will, Shepard. You will.” The doctor gets to her feet.  “I’ll let you get some rest, you’ll need it after all the shocks you’ve had today.  You’ve always been practical about the situations you get yourself into, but this is a new one in the field of human experience, so don’t push yourself too hard.”  Chakwas looks sympathetic.  “The world changed on you while you were asleep.  Try not to expect too much, too fast. Now, report to me in the morning for a baseline check-up, and do try to get some sleep, my dear girl.” 

   “I will.  Thanks, Doc,” I struggle for a moment with gratitude that threatens to overwhelm me, tears stinging my eyes at the doctor’s simple faith in me and genuine friendship. “For…for being here for me. It means a lot.”

   “Oh, it’s my pleasure, Commander. What are friends for, after all? And remember, my door is always open if you need to talk.”

   Once Chakwas is gone, I sit down at my terminal and open an extranet search, quickly confirming that Liara still technically holds a position at Serrice University.  The contact details should still be good, then.  I hope.

 

FROM: “Rachel Shepard” rshep:[REDACTED]

TO: “Dr. Liara T’Soni” ltsoni:serriceuniv:as

SUBJECT: Awake

_Liara,_

_I’ve just… woken up._

_I don’t understand the hows and whys, but I am alive. They told me it’s been two years since I died, but as far as I know, I woke up in a hospital bed two days ago. Three days ago I ordered you to abandon ship, to help the crew while I went to get Joker.  Four days ago I teased you for staying up all night reading about Prothean supermarket delivery routes. Four days ago, you told me you loved me._

_I’m sorry, that must seem unfair after so much time for you, but it meant so much to me.  There’s so much I want to say, to share with you.  I need to see you.  Even if you have moved on, I’d like to see for myself that you’re OK.  Please, if you get this, contact me.  Please let me know that you’re safe. Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, I’ll come, just as fast as I can.  No one on this ship, no one in the galaxy, can stop me from finding you._

_I love you._

_Rachel_

_  
_


	26. My Goodness and My Fortress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liara

_"What do you regret most, asari?"_

Javik asked me this once, while in one of his rare bears-a-passing-resemblance-to-sociable moods. I had come down to the cargo deck to ask him something about a translation I was struggling with, and had found him oddly talkative.

I lied to him, of course, something about not having enough time to prepare for the war; Javik is not the sort to tolerate emotional weakness, and I didn't need the lecture, but now part of me wishes I had told him the truth. Sitting here in his empty room, trailing my doubtless-contaminated fingers idly through his water table, something prompts me to confess. "Javik. I was not honest with you about my greatest regret, and I should have been. If you survived, if we are to be colleagues, you must be able to trust my word. So, my greatest regret? The way I almost lost Shepard on Ilium, the way I nearly snatched defeat from the jaws of victory."

* * *

 

Wrapped up in my pursuit of the Shadow Broker, I withdrew into my own world, grew distant from all my friends as different priorities pulled us apart. Tali took on responsibilities within the migrant fleet that kept her under highly classified security protocols, Garrus disappeared into Archangel (where his life depended on his ability to keep silent), Ashley threw herself back into the embrace of the Marines, Joker quit the military and fell off my radar, and Wrex had long since returned to the chaos of Krogan clan politics. I later discovered from the Shadow Broker's files that in the months preceding Shepard's resurrection and immediately afterward, Cerberus were monitoring my correspondence and diverting any information regarding Shepard, including Tali's account of Freedom's Progress and several increasingly worried contact messages from Rachel herself.

So it comes to pass that, locked in my solitary, friendless existence in Nos Astra, cocooned from anything that might make me deal with my emotions by a near-crippling workload and the institutionalized paranoia of the information trade, the only warning I get of Shepard's return to my life is Nyxeris reporting the Cerberus vessel _Normandy_ on approach to Nos Astra spaceport. I have virtually no time to take in what's happened, no time to wrap my head around the enormity of what is about to occur. There is, after all, only one reason Cerberus would have christened a vessel _Normandy_. I do some digging, mostly through my contacts on Omega (incurring an expensive debt to Aria T'Loak in the process), and am reasonably up to speed with developments before Normandy clears customs and quarantine.

And suddenly, she is there, walking into my office, eyes shining, grin lopsided, wearing new, custom-fitted armour (decked out, probably defiantly, in N7 red and black). Every bit as confident, every bit as graceful, every bit as beautiful.

Every bit as _Shepard_.

The rush of sheer, fierce joy that seeing her evokes catches me totally off guard, and her forthright approach to embrace me, as though she has never been gone, creates a split second of perfection as our lips touch. For the tiniest sliver of time, everything is all right again, but then Miranda Lawson's figure shifts in my peripheral vision and the moment shatters, the harsh reality and pain of two long years splintering the fairytale reunion. Overwhelmed, I pull back and turn away, locking the armour of my new profession around my heart. I so desperately want to break down in her arms and beg her to take me with her, just hold me and protect me as she's done so often in the past. (And if I'd had the courage, this course would have saved both Rachel and I a great deal of pain.) But I have no information on the situation with Cerberus, no reason to trust their motives in bringing Shepard here, no idea what they might have done to change her, and I am certainly not prepared to conduct a heart-to-heart in front of the Illusive Man's most trusted lieutenant. But more than any of these things, I am afraid. Afraid of the depth of my feelings, afraid of losing control, afraid of opening myself up to the pain of the last two years all over again. I still love her beyond reason, but Cerberus have revived her for a _suicide mission_. It is almost certain that I will lose her once more, and I am frightened. I know what the last two years have done to me. To contemplate falling that much further, to get her back and then lose her all over again...

Caught between despair and distrust, the pain that grips me as I watch the confusion and hurt seep into Rachel's face is unbearable. Turning away, I do the first thing I can think of to defuse the situation, get her out of the office - I ask her to hack some data terminals for me. For a frozen moment, she stares at me in complete bewilderment, then she nods curtly and quietly leaves with Miranda in tow. In this moment, I am eternally grateful that Garrus is not with Rachel - I'm quite sure I would never be forgiven. (Tali would never have forgiven me either, but Shepard hadn't yet rescued our Quarian friend from Haestrom.)

When Shepard returns with my data, she is alone, and I am able to confess to the desperate actions that led to her becoming one of Cerberus' grand experiments. For a moment after I finish, her face is unreadable, then she smiles wistfully. To hear her tell me I did the right thing, to see the longing in her eyes that she's too hurt, too wary to vocalise after my earlier rebuff is almost more than I can stand. My armour is cracking as I provide her with the information she needs to track down the assassin Thane Krios. She takes the hint and leaves me to my lonely struggle.

Our wary dance around each other continues for nearly two weeks. I become used to seeing Shepard stop into my office; she makes a point of visiting daily, stubbornly refusing to depart from my life, chipping away at my resolve. I place a terminal at her disposal with access to all of my sources, to help as she conducts her business on Ilium; recruitment, intelligence gathering, purchasing armaments and supplies, assisting Operative Lawson with a confidential personal matter. It's clear she has begun to trust Miranda; the Cerberus officer frequently accompanies Shepard and they are often deep in conversation as they work, sharing laughs as well as plans and logistics. Shepard has begun to work her magic, building loyalty through trust, and Miss Lawson is clearly not immune. Seeing them so easy with one another sparks a deep sense of jealousy. It is not that I see Lawson as a competitor, although she is undoubtedly beautiful; I see the way Shepard stares at me when she thinks I'm not looking. I am equally as jealous of Garrus, of all of the crew members Shepard drags across my threshhold. I resent the time each of them gets to spend with her. And then I am ashamed, because the only thing holding me back from enjoying what would almost certainly be her undivided attention is my own cowardice. But try as I might, I cannot bring myself to take the step.

When the chance to unmask the Observer presents itself, I can see in her eyes that she is worried for me, but the barrier I have thrown up holds. She says nothing, leaving to do as I have asked, still trusting me enough to not interfere.

Nyxeris very nearly gets the better of me, and I am still shivering from the adrenaline comedown as Shepard bursts into the room with Garrus and Miranda at her back. "Liara! Are you OK?" Her attention is totally focused on me, and only when I confirm I am unhurt do I see the tension drain from her.

"I am fine, Shepard."

"How was the fight?"

I try to make light of the situation, but the line that would have sounded effortlessly funny coming from Shepard hangs uncomfortably in the atmosphere. Garrus clears his throat, more, I sense, to break the silence than from any real need. Miranda is staring at me in bewilderment, and after a moment Shepard dismisses them both with a jerk of her thumb. For a long moment after the door hisses shut, she watches me, head tilted to one side.

"Shepard, what is it?"

She sighs. "Cerberus provided me with some intel on the Shadow Broker. They want me to give it to you, a change of heart that I find highly suspicious, given the lengths they went to to convince me you were working for him."

I blink, astonished. "They told you what? That's ridiculous! Miss Lawson of all people knows that I have been working against the Shadow Broker since you... well, for two years."

"Well, Miranda's nothing if not loyal to her boss, though I'm seeing some cracks in that recently." Shepard looks down at the floor and shakes her head. "Point is, Liara, I wasn't sure I should give you this. Everything I've seen up to now has pointed to this being an obsession for you, and if Cerberus really does want you kept away from me, then giving you a lead to follow and get yourself killed would be a neat solution to the problem."

"It's not an obsession, and I can take care of myself, Shepard," I retort hotly, too defensively. "I've survived the last two years on my own. I know too well that Cerberus are not to be trusted. As you should."

"I don't trust the Illusive Man as far as I can throw him," Shepard agrees, her tone heating in turn, "but this isn't about him. And I don't doubt you can handle yourself, but you admitted you'd never have seen Nyxeris coming. Who else might be lurking in the shadows that you won't see till it's too late?" She steps into my personal space as though she owns it, gripping my upper arms. "I'll give you the data, on the condition that you let me help you finish this. The Shadow Broker is clearly gunning for you, and I won't..." she checks herself with visible effort, "I mean, I'd _like_ to make sure this is resolved before..." She drops her hands, turns away from me. "Fuck! I can't do this. You won't _let_ me... ah, goddammit, here." Her hands bunch into fists for a moment, then she turns and drops the OSD into my palm and swings away again, stalking across the office to look out of the window, but the glimpse I catch of her face is shining with tears.

Miserable with guilt, but knowing Shepard well enough to understand that she wants space to collect herself, I slide the OSD into my console. The data is about Feron, and renewed hope pushes my doubts away. Within minutes, I am on my way home to prepare, having promised Shepard she can help me, and feeling all the better for it. Whatever I might have said, the prospect of taking on the Broker frightens me, and to have Shepard at my side is a reassurance I never dared hope for.

Barely six hours later, Tela Vasir lies dead at our feet, and the way to the Broker's hideout is open to me. Feron's rescue, the chance to repay a debt I'd thought irrecoverable, is within my grasp. There has hardly been time to think, and before it has time to sink in, I am planning the next phase. We need to move quickly, while we still have the element of surprise. Shepard asks a few pointed questions as we walk; I can tell she is piqued by something, but I pay it no mind, too focused on what I still have left to do.

Eventually, Shepard, driven to exasperation, grabs my arm. "Will you just stop for a second? We'll be jumping several light years, there's time to talk."

"About what?" I dissemble, shrugging her hand off, playing for time. Goddess, I don't want... I _can't_ do this just now.

"About us!"

"Shepard, listen, I'm... glad you're here..." Even to my own ears I sound weak and unsure.

"Worried there might be terminals you need me to hack?" she spits in reply.

"That's not fair!" I object. "You were _dead_!"

"I came back!" she shouts.

" _It's not that easy!_ You can't just _come back_ and have two years of mourning suddenly vanish!" I realize I am shouting in response and take a breath, pinching the bridge of my nose to ease the tension in my forehead. "I'm sorry, Shepard, I can't get into this. For now let's just focus on getting Feron back."

"Fine," she snaps, turning away. Then, suddenly she whirls back. "No, damn it, it's not fine! Liara, why can't you use my fucking name?"

"What? Shepard, I..."

"Don't fucking "Shepard" me," she growls. "You know my name, and you're not under my command. In the two weeks I've been here you haven't once addressed me as Rachel. Why not?"

"I don't always use your name anyway," I protest, but she has me. I've actively avoided it, trying to keep the barriers in place. Her given name, gifted to me during our first lovemaking, holds far too much temptation.

" _Bullshit_ , Liara!" Shepard's temper erupts, and for a moment I am shocked beyond speech. I have seen Shepard irritated, frustrated, even annoyed, but I have never once seen her lose her temper, provoked beyond her iron-clad self-command. Her already forbidding physical presence is _overwhelming_ when charged up by her anger, and I take a step back in spite of myself as she begins to prowl back and forth. "Jesus _fucking_ Christ, I..." she clenches her fists, turns away to look out over the city for a moment, then turns back, visibly bridling under her attempt at self-control. Her eyes blaze with a deep red fire as she locks her gaze with mine. "Liara... could you fucking _listen_ to me for one goddamn minute, all right? I mean, just hear me out without fucking bulldozing over me, can you do that?"

I nod wordlessly, intimidated by her stare - it must be an effect of the cybernetics, but the intensity it lends her fury, accented by her harsh human profanities, is daunting.

"I've had time to think this over in the last few weeks," Shepard continues. "Fact is, I haven't thought about much else in my down time. I never doubted I'd find you, that I'd see you again - no matter what line of shit the Illusive Man was trying to feed me. I told myself that when we met, if you were over me, if you'd accepted my... death... and moved on, I'd leave you be... part ways as friends." She lifts a hand to rub at the back of her neck, the nervous gesture so familiar that it hurts to watch. "God help me, Liara, I love you. Above any other thing in this universe, I want you to be happy, even if that means I can't be part of your life. But I see the way you look at me, I see how frightened you are of even fucking _touching_ me," her voice cracks at this, "and I don't believe that you've moved on. I don't believe you've accepted losing me, and I certainly don't believe that you don't feel anything. And I think you're too damn scared to admit it." She sighs heavily as her anger drains. "So here's what I want from you. It's not much, just a little thing."

"What is it?"

"Just this. If you can look me right in the eyes, use my name, and tell me straight out that you don't love me anymore, I'm out of here as soon as the Shadow Broker is dead. I can respect that, and I won't haunt you any longer. But if _you can't do that_ , Liara T'Soni, if you're just shutting me out because you're frightened, because it's easier than opening up, then I say you owe me, and yourself, the chance to put this back together. I'm not asking to pick up where we left off..." her voice trails to a whisper, "just for the opportunity to try."

The gauntlet she has thrown down has me transfixed. Her eyes are bright with tears, the only clue in her expression as to the emotions that are boiling within her. Even after two years, I can still read her body language; she is poised on the edge of fight or flight. The fury is gone now, spent as quickly as it erupted. I close my eyes, and I can sense her mind, reaching desperately towards mine, and I open my own thoughts just enough to hear her. Not a meld, not a true one, but a connection we still share from our previous bondings. What I feel shocks me to my core.

Shepard, my indomitable human, my beloved Rachel, is close to breaking. Closer than I could have imagined possible. Waking up alone among strangers, with no one to trust, cast out by the institution she practically regards as family. Angry and disappointed that they've done nothing to help the colonies. Grudgingly reinstated as a Spectre with a cloud of disgrace over her, worried by her choice to ally with Cerberus, a wound torn open anew by Ashley's poisonous accusations of betrayal and treachery. Garrus' unwavering friendship, Chakwas' and Joker's loyalty, the slow building of bridges with a new team are but tiny bright spots in an ocean of uncertainty and doubt. Overlaying all of it is her pain at being parted from me, sharpened by my apparent rejection, suffocating her attempts to find her focus, her purpose.

Horrified by the damage I've done, I pull back, opening my eyes, which are now also wet with tears. I can clearly see the ripples of cause and effect that will roll out from my decision here. If I tell her I am over her, lie to protect myself from being hurt more, I will lose her forever. She will nod bravely, tell me she will always love me, and throw herself into her mission, where, with nothing left to live for, she will get herself killed for a second time, handing her body to the enemy who so desperately seeks it, and ending any hope for the galaxy of surviving the Reapers. If I admit the truth, that I still love her more than I know how to express, it will re-forge the essence of Commander Shepard, restore my love to her diamond-edged brilliance, truly bring Rachel back from the dead. Why did I help Cerberus, if not for this? I may still lose her again, but she will not have thrown herself carelessly into the abyss, a shell of the person she once was. Faced with these truths, my fear of reliving the pain I have suffered seems the petty concern of a child. The galaxy can burn; in this moment, all I want is for Shepard, _Rachel_ , to be free of this crippling doubt. And I can give her that, with a few simple words.

Taking a deep breath, I reach out and grip her armoured shoulders, locking my gaze to hers. "Rachel..." She tenses, and fear flashes through her gaze. She has gambled everything on this stroke. Tentatively, I move my hand, resting my palm against her cheek and brushing the tears away with my thumb. Goddess, her skin is _so_ soft, _so_ warm, _so_ achingly familiar. "Rachel, I can't tell you that I don't love you, or that I've moved on. You're right. Everything you said is true. It's just... I... I'm terrified."

"Oh, Li," Shepard breathes, almost reverently. Her hand cups the back of my neck, draws me in till our foreheads touch. "Tell me why you're so afraid."

"I don't even know how to start."

"That's all right. If you can't tell me, why not show me?"

I'm tempted, but I resist. She has enough to contend with right now. "Not yet. I will, I promise, and soon, but for now, please, Rachel, trust me just a little bit further. I need this armour for just a little longer."

"OK," she murmurs, "I can deal with that."

"And you need time to heal. I've hurt you, I know that, and I'm sorry. It was never my intent."

"I'm sorry too, Li. I shouldn't have lost my temper."

I risk a smile. "It was instructive. I have never seen you angry before. And now I know I do not want to see you angry again. Not at me, at any rate."

She smiles back shyly, and the pure, child-like vulnerability in her expression stops my breath. Impulsively, I crush her against me, burying my face against her neck. She responds eagerly, locking one arm around my shoulders, and one around my waist. It feels so good to be held by her; I feel so safe.

The moment ends. Shepard steps back, rolls her shoulder till it cracks and takes a deep breath. "So, standing around here won't get this done. You need to pick anything up?"

"One or two things," I admit. "My apartment should be safe enough now."

"OK, then let's go. The sooner the Shadow Broker's out of business, the sooner we can get on with our lives."


	27. Confessions and Absolutions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard

Plucking Tali from the jaws of the Geth on Haestrom really takes it out of the crew and ship, with the hard radiation of Dholen's star playing hob with our personal gear and weapons as well as the Normandy's defence systems. Ilium is far closer than Hagalaz, but I choose the farther journey partly for selfish reasons and partly for practicality; as well as the need to see Liara on a personal basis, I'm curious as to how she's getting on with her new network, I know Tali will be delighted to see her, and I want the Normandy off the Illusive Man's radar for a while. The Hourglass Nebula is a good place to go silent, and while I can't fully count on my crew's loyalty as yet, Miranda has been converted to the cause, happy now to let me read her reports and omit details at my request, so things are looking up. My new XO is twice the officer poor Pressly ever was, and ironically, far less prejudiced against her alien colleagues.

Once we dock with the Shadow Base, I detail Miranda, Chief Daniels and Joker to begin repairs and inspection, and Kelly to file her crew evaluations with Chakwas for consultation. We can afford a few days; although Hagalaz is not exactly a furlough on the Citadel, it offers peace and quiet to take stock and catch up on rack time. Satisfied my crew is attended to, I sign off and head to the Shadow Broker's private sanctum.

The change in Liara is striking, even on a vid feed. Her smile as she greets me is heartfelt and genuine, and the rush of warmth that seeing her on the screen induces makes me feel as though I'm on top of the world. That last kiss definitely shook something loose for both of us.

_"I can... I can give you... I can..." Liara trails off into quiet sobs and turns away. She is shivering, hands covering her face, and the need to hold her is an ache in my fingers. I gesture to Feron, and he mumbles something about the power and leaves the room, dragging Garrus along with him. Walking over to her, I turn her to face me, and she smiles weakly. "It's over. It's finally... for two years..."_

_Before she can say anything else I step in and enfold her in a hug. "It's all right," I whisper soothingly into her aural cavity. She moves in my arms, and presses her lips far too briefly to mine, then she pulls back, stiffening up, guilt warring with desire in her eyes._

_"It's been two years," she says softly, her voice pained, but this time, this time I know she's on the brink of letting go of whatever is damming her emotions. She hasn't said it directly, but I know she still loves me. "I don't... We're different people. You have your mission..."_

_There's only one way I can think of to fix this, and since she started it, I'm damn well going to finish it. I reach out to grip her waist. Dipping my head, I close the distance and kiss her, trying to pour all of my love for her into this single, sweet point of contact. God, I've missed her, and for me it's only been about six weeks._

_She stands rigid for a split second, then she relaxes into my arms, her fingers lacing in my hair, her mouth opening to allow me to deepen the contact, a soft whimper escaping her as I crush her close. The kiss turns suddenly feral, desperate. Liara moans into my mouth, fingers locking almost painfully, and she is shaking when we break for air, but it isn't from grief any longer. "OK...OK," she whispers against my neck._

_"OK," I confirm. Now isn't the time to push it, so I let her go, but her smile tells me I've made the connection I so desperately needed to make._

I step into the brightly lit main room of the Shadow Broker's personal lair, and Liara is already walking toward me. She hugs me with genuine, open pleasure, and my simple query as to her general well-being results in a deluge of information. Definitely getting back to normal. She bears my wisecrack about creepy recluses with good grace, but the scope of her new resources is fearsome. We could do so much; topple governments, start wars, crash the galactic economy. It's more power than one being should ever be allowed to wield, but if there's one person in this universe I would trust to handle it, it's Liara. She's already so rich that the money means nothing to her, and she's kind-hearted and weighs all of her actions and choices carefully.

Once we've established that criminal mastermind is, in fact, Liara's dream job, I decide to push a little with my agenda. I am not really interested in the Broker's network; I am far more interested in the Broker herself. "You know, I didn't come down here just to talk about data."

Liara blushes. "I had a feeling," she replies tentatively. "Look, about the kiss. We'd just finished the fight..." She shakes her head, turns and looks at me directly. "I miss you, Rachel. But it's been two years. I don't want to put pressure on you."

She really does walk into these things sometimes. I give her my best salacious wink. "It's been six weeks. And I've got fond memories of the last time you put pressure on me."

Liara giggles, her blush deepening. "So do I," she admits, her gaze locked to mine. I reach out to brush my knuckles against her cheek. She leans into my touch, closing her eyes, and the feel of her soft, pebbled skin awakes a thousand memories. Desire blooms in my belly, but looking around, I can't see anywhere that looks comfortable enough for either the long, candid talk we need to have or the extensive session of fantastic make-up sex I'm hoping will follow. I want her back, so badly it frightens me.

Closing the space between us, I lean in to plant a kiss at the edge of her jaw. "Why don't you come to the Normandy for drinks?" I invite her. "Tali's desperate to see you, and my new quarters are a hell of a lot more comfortable than this place. Joker and Dr. Chakwas would be pleased to see you as well, I'd bet."

Liara nods eagerly. "I'd like that. Let me pick up a couple of things and freshen up. I'll meet you there."

* * *

 

Hours later, I start awake, heart thumping, soaked in sweat, breathless. My cabin is dark, quiet, but something's... off. Something's...

"Rachel?"

"Jesus!" I jump violently at the sleep-choked voice. A light blooms by the bed, and Liara sits up beside me, worry stamped into her features. She grabs my shoulders.

"Rachel, it's all right," she soothes. "It's all right. It was just a dream." She drops a light kiss on the base of my neck. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

I take a deep breath and let it out, relaxing as the night terror fades, and I reach up to rest a hand atop Liara's as I turn my head to look at her. "It's OK, it's not your fault."

"Are you having nightmares frequently?" she asks, her concern unabated.

"I..." I hesitate for a moment, decide to be brave. My plan for the evening has been turned on its head with us somehow skipping the long talk and going straight to the making love. The meld has shared much of what needed to be said, far more openly and completely than words ever could. All of my hurt, all of Liara's has been dragged into the light, examined, accepted, and forgiven. I don't want to be the one to put the barriers back up, and part of me realises that carrying on as I have, denying my doubts and fears, battling on in spite of the mental wounds my death and resurrection have inflicted, will get me into trouble sometime soon. I need to confess, and Liara is the only person I trust with my injured soul. "Yeah. I don't always remember, but... I dream about dying." _Star-dappled darkness all around me; the vacuum has quickly snuffed out the fires that killed the Normandy. Fingers numb from the cold and my death grip on the severed oxygen lines at my neck, chest burning from trying to breathe air that isn't there. My HUD alarm wailing, shrieking uselessly at me that I'm about to die. Terror, panic flaring briefly, then being smothered under the weight of the dark pressing down on me. Choking, I can't, I can't...I..._

"Rachel!"

I'm panting for breath, shivering, and Liara is suddenly sitting astride me, hands pressed to either side of my face, eyes wide with fear. "Athame's grace! Does this happen every night?"

I pull in a deep breath and shake my head. "Not every night... most nights."

"Have you told Doctor Chakwas?" If I haven't she will, I sense. I nod quickly; no one on the crew needs to see her drag me down to the medbay, both of us stark naked.

"Yeah, and I talked to Kelly, but short of sleeping pills, which don't help, there's not much they can do."

"Kelly... your Yeoman?" A touch of jealousy colours Liara's tone, and I lean in to plant a quick, reassuring kiss on her lips.

"She's a trained psychologist. She's a nice kid, eager to help, but I don't... She's on my crew, she needs to see me as her boss and not her patient, and certainly not as her friend. She has a tendency to over-attach. I've talked to Chakwas a lot more. I'm glad she's here."

"So am I. You need someone you can confide in."

I reach behind Liara's head to run my fingertips down the back of her neck, making her shiver. "I have someone to confide in. I don't need, or want, anyone but you."

She smiles a small triumphant smile, then shifts her weight forward, tipping me onto my back with her warm, soft body on top of me. "Tell me," she murmurs, kissing my cheek. I wrap my arms around her waist, stroking the supple, sensitive skin of her lower back idly. It feels so good to hold her again.

"I just..." I sigh and tip my head back, closing my eyes for a moment to gather my resolve. "Ever since I woke up, I've been running in crisis mode. I've been pushed from confrontation to confrontation, task to task, all of it urgent, with tens of thousands of lives in the balance. I've had no real time to think, to process anything."

"That's engineered," Liara observes, running her fingers through my hair. "Cerberus are trying to herd you, drive you along their path, keep you off balance enough that you don't have time to look at what it is they really want. It's one of the reasons they've tried so hard to keep us apart. I'd bet the Illusive Man's change of heart regarding me came after something happened that pushed you too far, something you reacted badly to."

"Ash," I agree immediately. "We ran into Ash on Horizon, which wasn't a coincidence, and she was royally pissed at me."

"Garrus told me about that," Liara says softly. "I'm so sorry, Rachel. I know what Ashley means to you, but it sounds as though she was well out of line."

"She threw a lot of fire, some which hit home. Betraying the Alliance, working with terrorists..." God, I'm _still_ angry with her, "every chink in my armour, every doubt I was already entertaining. She got them all, and good. That night, I drank myself unconscious with Jack, and the next day I got a call from His Nibs, saying you might be able to help me track down Thane and Samara. That picked me right up off the deck."

Liara leans down and kisses me, a slow, thorough kiss that starts my heart thumping. Instinctively, I tighten my grip at her back, and she shudders as the pressure grinds her azure against my thigh. "I think you're right about the Illusive Man's motives," she muses. "I told Miranda when I gave her your body that I didn't want to know what they were doing, or if they succeeded. I wanted you back, more than anything, but I didn't want them to be able to use me as a whip to drive you. It seems they found a way to do it nonetheless."

"Well, it's backfired spectacularly," I chuckle. "If you were supposed to end up dead or on the Normandy where they could try to use you, I'd say their plans have failed catastrophically."

"I would rather be on the Normandy to be used than be parted from you again," Liara says sadly, "but perhaps this setup is for the best, for now." She wriggles in my arms, pulling herself further up my body so that her breasts press tantalisingly against mine. Cupping my face in her hands, she kisses me again, then lowers her forehead to touch it to mine. "Listen to me, Rachel. I've looked into your soul, and there's no doubt in my mind that you are doing the right thing, for the right reasons. Goddess help you, you are not capable of doing anything else. Yes, you are being used by Cerberus. Yes, you are disconnected from everything that you hold dear, and everything that you feel defines you, but let me ask you this: if you had survived, if you were still an Alliance officer, and this information had come to you, from any source, what would you have done?"

I smile slowly, an immense sense of peace spreading through me at Liara's words. "The same damn thing. I wouldn't leave those people to be harvested. I couldn't. I wouldn't... be me."

Liara smiles back, a heartbreakingly hopeful smile. "Exactly. You are who you've always been, and I can feel that in every part of your mind. You just needed someone to remind you. You've betrayed no one, violated none of your morals or principles. Besides which, you are still a Spectre, empowered to act on behalf of the Council to preserve the galactic peace and protect their citizens, and that includes humans, regardless of the Alliance's politics. You are at liberty to use Cerberus' resources and personnel to achieve your end; the Illusive Man's game can have more than one player. Your actions have saved hundreds of people already, and you will save more. Because of you, Garrus, Ashley, and Tali are all still alive. Because of you, Miranda is starting to think for herself. Because of you, Jack is learning to trust. And because of you..." she nips at my earlobe with her teeth, "I am alive again." She draws her head back to meet my gaze, tears in her eyes. "I was lost without you, Rachel. You brought me back. Brought me home, to you."

Overwhelmed by how much I love, _need_ , the asari in my arms, I crush her closer, blinking back my own tears. I came so close to losing her. "I was lost, too. You've made me realise just how much. I'm so sorry, Li. I never meant to leave you."

"I know, Rachel. I know."

Rolling us so that I'm lying on top of her, I look down into the depths of her crystalline blue eyes. "I love you, Liara, more than life. I promise that no matter what happens, I'm always coming back. Because my life without you in it isn't worth a damn."

Trailing kisses down the graceful column of her throat, I prop myself up to one side of her, and run my hand slowly down over her breasts and belly. She arches at my touch, and moans softly, then gasps, "I love you too, Rachel. Please..."

"You don't need to ask, Li," I murmur against her collarbone, working my way down the slope of her left breast with my lips.

"W-what?" she stammers, shuddering as my fingers hit a sensitive spot, biotic energy crackling from her skin.

"I trust you." A kiss. "You can..." another, "meld…whenever you... need to."

Liara stills beneath me, hands moving to trap mine. I look up, and the sheer incredulity in her expression makes me grin. "Something I said?"

"Do you have any idea how... how _sacred_... such a trust is?" she breathes. "Among my people, to give your lover such permission is almost unheard of, even among bondmates who have lived centuries together."

"I don't have the luxury of waiting that long," I joke, "but yes, I know what I'm offering. Like I said, I trust you, and I love you. I don't want any barriers between us, and I have no other way to express the depth of my feelings."

Liara closes her eyes. "I don't deserve you," she says quietly.

"Maybe not," I agree cheerfully, "but you're probably the closest I'll get to someone who does."

She laughs, a clear, carefree laugh that lifts my heart, and swats me playfully on the shoulder. "You have a strange idea of how to compliment someone, Commander."

Oh-ho. _Commander_ , is it? _Definitely_ definitely getting back to normal. "Forgive me, Doctor. I'm only a poor soldier, and a pathetic human at that. I'm not accustomed to the fine manners of asari high society."

"Well then, you're lucky I'm here to give you a few pointers, Commander." Liara arches one of her eyebrow markings suggestively. "I assume, as a soldier, you are capable of following orders?"

I fire off a mock salute as I slide back up to face her. "Yes, ma'am!"

"Well then, how about..." Her eyes fill with inky black, and I close mine as I duck in to kiss her. Our minds fuse as our mouths meet, and I am swiftly lost in the euphoric rapture of Liara's love.


	28. Shattered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liara

Finally, I summon the courage to face Joker. He's in the cockpit, haptic screens showing nav data and system configuration boards lit up around him like Armali's central market at Janiris. Throwing himself into his work to avoid thinking. I recognise the strategy, but so many of Joker's duties involved EDI that I doubt it's working.

"Jeff," I greet him as I limp into his private universe.

For a moment, he doesn't respond, then he swings his chair around to face me. "Hey, Liara," he says softly. "I'm glad to see you back on your feet."

"Thank you, Jeff." I lean against the cyber-warfare console to take the weight off my leg. "How are you doing? Garrus told me what happened with EDI."

"Yeah, well, stupid to be so cut up about a machine, right?" he mutters, dropping his gaze.

"Not at all," I rebuke him gently. "You loved her. No matter if the impulses were electrical rather than biochemical, she was alive. We all thought of her that way, particularly after she acquired her body, and nobody, _nobody_ , thinks you're stupid." Carefully, I move and kneel beside him, cupping his cheek with my hand. "She is worthy of your grief, Jeff. For what it's worth, I share it. And I know how you feel."

Joker sobs suddenly, a strangled sound harsh with rage and pain, and I lean in to embrace him. He hugs me tightly. "Christ, Liara, I'm so sorry," he cries. "I said it to Shepard, but I never said it to you, and I should have. I know how you must have felt, now. I'm so sorry that you lost her because of me…"

_Joker stands in the dock, alone. He has admitted his guilt in a hollow, flat voice, but Alliance court-martial protocol demands the collection and documentation of evidence, so that any dispute that may arise can be assessed in the light of the facts. I have no desire to be here, in the witness box, no desire for my words to be used to crucify Joker further. A show trial won't bring Rachel back, but the Alliance seems hell-bent on making the pilot the scapegoat for the loss of its most valuable asset._

_Haltingly, unwillingly, I recall my conversation with Beauchene for the court, and my final conversation with Rachel. Joker hangs his head as I speak; ever since we were picked up by the Yorktown, he has not spoken to me or even made eye contact, avoiding me. He fears that I am angry, that I blame him, and he is correct. While I know Rachel would have made sure she was the last soul to leave the Normandy alive, Joker's escape route should have had him evacuated less than two minutes from the evac signal sounding - poor Lieutenant Chase had made sure we all knew what to do, and how fast we could do it. My pod, the last to leave bar Joker's, launched six minutes after the alarm. Joker's pod, activated at the point of the strike that killed Rachel, launched eight minutes after the alarm. If not for Joker's stupid, selfish disobedience, Rachel would still be alive. It is that simple. But punishing him will not change that, nor will it make me feel any better._

"Oh, Jeff, please, don't do this to yourself," I beg, squeezing him more tightly. "I forgave you a long time ago. It was an accident."

He clutches at my shoulders, grief racking his fragile frame, and I weather the storm with him, stroking his back soothingly. Eventually, he quiets and sits back, looking at me with tear-burnished eyes. "How do you stand it?" he whispers. "I want to curl up in a ball and just scream."

"I've done that," I assure him. "It didn't make me feel better."

"And I keep thinking I can see her in the corner of my eye, but when I turn, she's not there. Or I hear her, and I ask her something, and she doesn't respond."

I nod mutely, closing my eyes as another memory engulfs me…

_I thread my way across the trading floor of the Nos Astra exchange, dodging self-important volus merchants, excitable Salarian entrepreneurs, stoic turian financiers, and the vigilant asari traders alert for any opportunity to part them from their credits. Dressed in a traditional asari business ensemble in white and blue, the traders take me for one of their own and ignore me as I move through the throng, my head spinning at the volume and variety of conversations, advertising slogans and news network reports. Pausing at the edge of the throng, by the stairway to the office suite I am looking to rent, I look back over the crowd in relief at having escaped the melee. I am still not used to such crowds everywhere I go._

_I have been on Illium a week. Most of my time has been spent at the Nos Astra Municipal Bureau, registering my presence as a citizen, setting up my company, and trying to acquire accommodation and office space. Since returning from Cereberus' research station, I travelled home briefly to attend my mother's funeral, alienating numerous of my relatives with my indifference to the arrangements. (Rachel is gone. My mother is gone too. Why would I care whether the flowers are white or yellow?) The funeral was an affair of tremendous pomp and dignity, much to my Aunt Anairia's taste; I'm quite sure that my mother would have hated it, but I cannot spare the emotional energy to care._

_Two funerals, for the only two people I have ever loved, in less than a month._

_I barely remember Shepard's funeral now; I was too stunned, too bereft to take it all in. Besides, all that's happened since makes a mockery of the finality of it. But I recall Tali and Garrus practically holding me up for much of it. I recall Shepard's family, a small group of uniformed and smartly clad humans bearing varying degrees of resemblance to Rachel, sitting stiff-backed and stony faced. I recall Admirals Anderson and Hackett speaking, their empty platitudes echoing round the hall, and I recall Hannah Shepard's tiny, forlorn wave of farewell as we watched the empty coffin roll behind the curtains leading to the crematorium, a gesture that broke me completely. Tali and Garrus had to take me back to our hotel; the wake was beyond me._

_Tears blur my vision at even these fragments. Nos Astra swims before me until I dash the wetness from my eyes. As I turn to continue on my way, I catch a glimpse of red hair off to my left. Spinning back, I see a human woman dressed in dark blue walking toward Eternity. She's far too short to be Rachel, and far too plump, but my pulse has already kicked up a gear at the split-second recognition. But of course it's far too soon for Cerberus to have made any headway. Biting my lip, I start up the stairs, misery twisting my gut._

_The events set in motion by Rachel's death have given me a new purpose. The actions of the Council, the Shadow Broker and the Collectors have opened my eyes to a harsher galaxy than even the fight against Saren had made me cognizant of. When I stood with Shepard and Wrex on that gantry and heard Sovereign speak, I allowed Shepard's can-do attitude and my own naivete to cloud my thinking. The galaxy would of course unite against such an appalling threat; what could be more important than protecting our homes and civilisations from such evil? I never imagined for a moment that our warning would go unheeded. In my darker moments I wonder if Rachel's death hasn't allowed the Council to breathe more easily. After all, with Shepard gone, her crew broken up, who will dispute their assertion that Sovereign was nothing more than a geth dreadnought?_

_I will. I spoke my promise to the casket holding Rachel's remains before I handed her over to Cerberus. I will not allow our frightened politicians to blind the galaxy to this threat. I will not permit the Shadow Broker or the Collectors threaten those I hold dear, let Feron's death have been in vain. I will not let the Illusive Man's corrupt designs on power be the sole custodian of hope against the coming darkness._

_I will not let Rachel Shepard down._

_But I am one person, alone for the moment; to do any of these things, I need information. I need a screen for my activities that will let me dig for information on the Reapers. I am convinced that Prothean research will remain key but it does not cast a wide enough net. I need to know more. So I am here on Illium to begin my new career as an information broker._

_That night, I awaken with a scream, gasping for breath, tears streaming down my face, the nightmare of Rachel's ruined body branded behind my eyelids. Sitting bolt upright in my new bed, I am completely disoriented for a few seconds as garish neon lights flash and pulse through the room in complex syncopation. Illium. I'm on Illium. I haven't closed the shutters, and Eternity is always open for business. I get out of bed, pull on my robe, and pad down the stairs and over to the window. The bare, soulless expanse of my apartment is eerily silent; the soundproofing is high-quality enough to shut out the noise of the revellers below. I look down on the crowd, and I see the human woman from earlier, locked in an intimate embrace with an asari maiden._

_Abruptly, the memory of Rachel's gentle, provocative hands on me, my human lover taking possession of my body and my mind in a manner I had never dreamed possible, rips my tenuous hold on my emotions apart, shreds the gossamer web of composure my new purpose has afforded me. I close my eyes and the desecrated nightmare of burned flesh and shattered bone that Rachel has become leers at me, mouth open in a ghastly mockery of a smile._

_The scream that echoes around the apartment is barely recognisable as a sentient sound. All of my grief, all of my rage, all of my pain, synthesized into a primal, bestial shriek. Over and over the sound tears from my throat until I can't breathe, bringing on a paroxysm of coughing. Crouched like an animal on all fours, my lungs heaving, throat burning, acid boiling in my stomach, I retch onto the polished tiles of the floor. The convulsion relaxes and I suck in a desperate lungful of air, then another, then another. Eventually, the crisis subsides, and exhausted, I simply roll to my side on the cold, uncaring floor and shut my eyes._

"Liara?"

Joker's voice is querulous; he is sitting with me, holding my hands gently. I squeeze his fingers reassuringly. "I'm all right, Jeff."

"How can you be?" Joker asks doubtfully. "How can you stand this? And for a second time? God, Liara, I feel so… broken. I can't think, I can't sleep, I can't…" He breaks off, shaking his head, points to the deck beside him. "She was standing there, working. Hackett ordered us to bug the hell out, and I saw the Crucible fire. EDI confirmed its activation, and I almost couldn't believe it. We jumped out, then everything outside went red, and EDI…she…she just stopped. Her knees went, and she just folded up, like someone had just flipped a switch. I screamed at her, but she didn't respond, and then we were crashing, and when it was over, I… she wouldn't wake up." He looks down, sucks in a deep breath.

"I lie, Jeff," I admit quietly. "To myself more than anyone. I tell myself she's not dead, and I do still hold that hope. But it doesn't always help – I am more afraid that my hope is vain. Nothing I do makes a difference. If I sit on the floor and scream, she is not here. If I ignore my feelings, focus on work to avoid thinking, she is still not here, it just means there are moments when I don't comprehend it. And then, as you say, I see her, or hear her, and the reality crashes back down on me, twice as painful. Goddess forgive me, I can't offer you any advice, Jeff. There is no cure, and each of us mourns in our own way. You have to do what you feel is right for you. I can only offer my understanding, in that I know how you feel, and you are welcome to come and talk to me about EDI anytime."

Joker nods slowly. "Thanks, Liara. I will." He squeezes my hands. "You should know… after the battle… I heard Shepard, on the comm."

I stare at him. "What?"

"Yeah, just before the Crucible fired, if that's what happened. It wasn't working, it needed to be activated from the Citadel, and Hackett tried calling everyone, anyone. Shepard was the one that picked up." Joker grimaces. "So she made it that far. We still don't know what happened, but Harbinger didn't get her."

I curse myself for not having the nerve to speak to Joker before. "How… how was she? Did she sound…"

Joker shakes his head adamantly. "Liara, I don't want you to get your hopes up, okay? She sounded real bad. Tired… and hurting. I've never heard Shepard sound so damaged. And her suit data wasn't transmitting." He taps one of his interfaces. "I've got the info, right up until we hit the relay. Yours goes to standby, along with Ash's, when we picked you up. Javik's cuts out when we hit the relay, so I'm sure he was alive down there when we jumped. Shepard's suit goes down three minutes after we medevaced you out. I heard her after that, so that's not conclusive, but it takes a lot of fire to kill a hardsuit transponder. The soldier will usually die long before the suit does." He sighs. "She'd have got the job done, I'm sure of that, and she's too damn stubborn to just roll over and die, but this isn't worth pinning your hopes to, Liara. Liara? Liara, are you even listening to me?"

I'm not listening any more. I need to talk to Shepard. Hurriedly, I release Joker's hands and stand, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I won't get my hopes up," I lie. "I'll see you later, Jeff. Thank you for telling me."

I hurry to Shepard's cabin. "Rachel? Are you here?"

My lover's avatar blinks into view, leaning against the fish tank, ankles crossed, thumbs tucked into the waistband of her combats. "Joker's right, Liara," she warns, "don't take this as some sort of sign."

I cross the room, lifting my hands in an appeal to be embraced, and Shepard complies, wrapping me up in her arms. "I'm not. All I want to know is if you think it would even be feasible."

Shepard considers this. "Do I think it's feasible that if I sustained enough combat damage to kill my hardsuit transponder, I could survive that damage long enough without my suit's support to either get myself clear of the danger zone or hold out long enough to be rescued?" She presses a kiss to my temple. "I hate to say it, Li, but no, I don't. If I survived what killed the suit, I doubt it would have been for very long. I'm sorry, babe." Her arms tighten as I begin to cry, tears streaming down my cheeks, the brief flicker of hope Joker has kindled guttering and dying under Shepard's own sober, irrefutable judgement.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard

Liara cries out, and the shock of the sound is enough to break the meld. I sit up hastily, gripping my lover's shoulders. "Li, babe, you OK?"

She stares at me blankly for a moment, then shakes herself. "Yes. Goddess, I'm sorry, I just… I saw something in your mind, just for a moment, and it terrified me."

"Can you give me any detail?"

"Nothing concrete, just a glimpse of somewhere dark, red-lit, a terrible smell…." She shivers. "You were in agony. You were so badly wounded you were sure you were going to die."

I think for a moment, but I can't place the memory. "I've never been that badly wounded, as far as I recall. The Citadel tower falling on me hurt like hell, but I knew my injuries weren't fatal. Same with the Benning expedition, and Elysium. Nothing serious. Even that time after Cyone, there wasn't enough time for me to think about it."

Liara, oddly, brightens at this. "Oh, well… that's good."

"It is?"

"Yes. I'm starting to get flashes of what you don't remember. I think this is working."

"Right." I smile sheepishly, feeling a fool for not realising that myself. "So, we keep doing what we're doing?"

"We keep doing what we're doing." Liara's eyes ink to black, and vertigo upends my senses…

* * *

 

As soon as Admiral Hackett's shuttle clears the Normandy's hangar deck, I order Joker to set course for Hagalaz. Despite my protestations to the Admiral, despite the cold logic (the ruthless calculus of war, as Garrus would later term it), I feel sick, disgusted with myself. Guilty.

I killed over three hundred thousand people.

The handful who died on the asteroid, indoctrinated puppets of the Reapers, left me no choice, but the colonists and their slaves I have placed upon the altar of necessity, of my being right. Our first casualties are friendly fire, a pre-emptive strike to delay the enemy. That they would have died anyway had I not done what I did is cold comfort. Our victory over the Collectors feels a hollow thing, in light of what I learned on that base. We have perhaps a year before the Reapers come. A year at most to find a way to beat them, and I must face the consquences of buying the oblivious masses of the galaxy that time with the blood of three hundred thousand innocent people.

I want to scream in frustration. I can't deal with this alone. I don't have the strength to shrug off the doubt and guilt. Chakwas waits in silence beside me, an unspoken, standing offer of a sympathetic ear. I meet her gaze, and tears sting my eyes.

She steps forward. "Shepard..."

I hold up one hand, forbidding further comment, stalking past her out of the medbay and into the elevator, retreating to the loft as fast as possible. The crew don't need to see me like this.

It takes three days to get to Hagalaz, three days I spend brooding in my quarters, reliving the scenario over and over again, trying to figure out if there was any way I could have avoided the outcome, bloody-mindedly determined to suffer penance for my sins. Miranda, Tali, and Garrus all try to coax me out of my self-imposed exile but I rebuff all of them, albeit gently. I know they mean well, but there is only one person I can share this with.

When we dock with the Shadow Broker's ship, I am not given the opportunity to decide a strategy. A few minutes after Joker informs me of our arrival, there is a knock at the door, and a buzz at the intercom. "Shepard, it's me. May I come in?"

"Yeah, course," I reply, and the door slides open to admit Liara. As soon as I see her, the tears well up, and before I quite realise what is happening, she is beside me, holding my head to her chest as I sob, fingers laced in my hair, one arm locked around my shoulders.

After a while, I recover enough self-command to pull back and look her in the eyes. She brushes a quick kiss against my cheek. "Goddess, it's good to see you safe," she breathes. "When the Bahak system went dark, I... I feared the worst."

Her words confirm my half-formed fear; she already knows. I try to summon a response, but speech is beyond me. Liara takes my hands, squeezes them lightly. "I know what happened. Tali, Dr. Chakwas, and Miranda all called me independently, and I have plenty of resources inside the Batarian government. You destroyed the relay to stop the Reapers gaining control of the entire network in a surprise attack."

I pull free, stand and walk over to my desk to retrieve my report, and toss the datapad to her. "It's all there."

Liara fields the catch gracefully and frowns at me for a moment, then opens the pad and begins to read. It doesn't take her long, and my only delaying tactic is gone. "Oh, Rachel..."

"I don't want to hear that I did the right thing," I warn her. "It doesn't make me feel any better."

"Of course it doesn't, but nonetheless, you did what had to be done." Liara tosses the pad to the bed and beckons me. "You know we're not ready. And it's no comfort to be right in the face of so many dead, when so many refuse to listen. Goddess, it makes me _so_ angry that such a decision should have fallen to you when it is rightly the responsibility of the Council. That their short-sighted stupidity has forced you to shoulder a burden that should never have been yours, a burden no soul should have to bear alone." Liara's voice rises as she speaks, trembling with suppressed emotion; wisps of blue-white biotic energy are starting to smoke from her arms. "Rachel, love, this is _not_ your fault."

"I tried... I tried to warn them," I offer lamely as I move to kneel in front of her, "but I was overrun. Fuck, I should have taken someone else with me, Kasumi maybe, as backup."

"And if you had, the Hegemony would now be at war with the Systems Alliance, and any hope of defeating the Reapers would be gone. We would already be doing their work for them." Liara takes my hands again, rubbing her thumbs over my knuckles. "I don't say this to make you feel better, but the Batarians are digging into things they shouldn't. The files are heavily encrypted, but they have been recovering Reaper tech all across the Kite's Nest, including from the Bahak system, and researching it. Indoctrination will soon spread through their military, preparing them for the Reaper's arrival."

"And if we're already at war when that happens, there will be no way to rally everyone together. It'll be a slaughter."

"Combine indoctrination with the Batarian's culture of paranoia and supremacy, and you have the tinder for a galactic conflagration," Liara agrees with a grimace. "The Batarians trust no one, co-operate with no one, seek only control and domination of other races. For all that the Bahak colonists and their slaves were blameless in that regard, what happened has not altered their ultimate fate. We have to believe that. The Hegemony have signed their own death warrant in their quest for military superiority. We need to make sure they have not also signed everyone else's."

"Li, I'm sorry, I can't rationalize it away quite so easily. It was my hand on the control, my action that ended their lives. The fact that the Batarians are, by and large, warmongering bastards, has no bearing."

"It wasn't your action that prevented the Batarians being warned," Liara objects. "That was Kenson's doing."

"Logic can't fix this," I murmur, pulling a hand free and holding it up as Liara opens her mouth to protest further. "I need to process it in my own time, come to terms with it in my own way, but thank you. I feel better just being here with you."

Liara draws me in, pulling my head to her chest and stroking my hair gently. "I'm glad. I feel the same way."

I close my eyes and float for a moment, cherishing the peace that simply being held by Liara evokes. Surrounded by her, I can forget that my newly fledged dream of returning the Normandy to the Alliance, resuming my Spectre duties and keeping my team together, allied with Liara's information network, preparing for the Reapers, is already ashes. Hackett's assessment was brutally clear; I will be made the scapegoat, the rogue Spectre, while the Alliance does damage control through diplomacy. Hackett and Anderson will shield me as they can, but I could end up court-martialled, convicted and imprisoned as a war criminal. If I have succeeded in delaying the Reapers long enough to give us a fighting chance, it's a price worth paying. But it means breaking my word to Liara, and that bothers me far more than the prospect of being thought of as a criminal. The spell is broken, and I pull back to look up at her. "Li, I..."

"Rachel," she cuts me off. "I know what Hackett asked of you, and I know you won't shirk your duty. I know you have to go."

"I don't want to," I whisper. "I want to stay here, with you. If it were my choice..." I'm lying to us both. It _is_ my choice to go; I could choose to stay, but that choice might cost us the galaxy. But part of me, most of me, really doesn't care about that right now. If Liara asks me, I'll stay with her. It's that simple. Dropping my gaze, face burning with shame, I test the boundaries of my conscience. "Li..if…if you want me to… to stay, I'll…"

Liara places her fingertips over my lips, shakes her head gently. "Don't, Rachel. Don't even think it. I wouldn't ask that of you. I couldn't. It would be like asking you to cut your own arm off." She slides her thumb under my chin, tilts my head up so she can look me in the eye, and she smiles affectionately. "Look at you. You can't even get the sentence out, it's so alien to your nature. Don't do this to yourself, love. It's all right. I understand why you need to go."

"I made you a promise," I protest.

"You did," Liara agrees gently. "Your promise to me was to always return, not that you would never leave."

"But that might not be within my control. If they convict me, I could be in prison for the rest of my life. Or if they extradite me, the Batarians will put a bullet in my head without compunction. And the Reapers are coming, we need to prepare. Li, I…"

"Shhh, Rachel." Liara pulls me up to sit beside her, and leans in until our foreheads are touching. "I'll do everything I can to support you, and I'll keep looking for anything we can use against the Reapers." She kisses me fiercely. "And I _won't_ let them lock you up and throw away the key, or try to execute you, not after everything I went through to get you back. If you think the might of the Systems Alliance or the Batarian Hegemony can keep us apart, well, you've seriously underestimated the Shadow Broker."

"Oh?" The depths of Liara's newfound power and influence are as yet unplumbed, but the depth of her confidence in herself and in me is the balm I need right now. I lift her hands and kiss her knuckles lightly. "I'm glad she's on our side, then."

Liara smiles, tracing a finger down the rim of my ear. "Death couldn't separate us, Rachel. Nothing else will have a prayer."

Finally reassured, I return Liara's kiss with interest. "I need you, Li. Join with me?"

"I'll do more than that," Liara promises as she knocks me back on the bed and peels me out of my uniform…


	30. Shadow Broker, Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liara

"How d'you end up on Mars anyway, Blue?"

"I'm sorry?" Vega's question, asked as we hack our way through the jungle surrounding the ship on forage duty, comes abruptly off the back of a long silence.

"Mars. How d'you wind up there? I mean, I got to thinkin' about it, and I figured it was too incredible to be a coincidence. Like, what are the odds that the one person we need to find in the Archives just so happens to be Lola's girl?"

I smile. "Not so astronomical, if you put the chain of evidence together. Firstly, you have to remember that I was there at Admiral Hackett's request…"

* * *

 

I've never been to Sol before.

Stepping off the commercial transport from Arcturus, I feel a thrill of anticipation. This is Earth. I am on the same planet as Shepard.

Thinking of her predicament sours my mood somewhat as I walk through the glass and steel monstrosity of the passenger terminal at Kuala Lumpur Spaceport to catch my connecting flight to Vancouver, the city that hosts the Alliance military's HQ. The Alliance's political arm, desperate to avoid war with the Batarians, were initially intent on subjecting Shepard to a full, public court martial. Doubtless such a trial would have found her guilty of war crimes regardless of the truth, as the Batarians were screaming for retribution and the Council were having little success in keeping them in check. There was even an absurd suggestion that Shepard be extradited and tried on Khar'shan, which was given a dangerous amount of weight in the Alliance government's inner circles. The Alliance military, principally in the forms of Admirals Hackett and Anderson, were being denied any room to manoeuvre, and running a real risk of seeing the one officer they knew to be key to the coming campaign against the Reapers being sacrificed on the altar of appeasement.

Enter the Shadow Broker.

A classified Hegemony report on weapons of mass destruction developed from alien technology was erroneously delivered to Emily Wong of the Citadel News Network. The manifest for a shipment of experimental Batarian mind-control tech that violated about twenty Council Statutes found its way to three unimpeachable independent witnesses; a Salarian Spectre named Jondam Bau, Matriarch Lidanya, commanding officer of the Destiny Ascension, and one Major Kirrahe of the STG. Turian intelligence began hearing whispers of illegal weapons testing near the Apien Crest. Westerlund News received damning evidence of corruption and corporate kickbacks on two of the Alliance government's senators, both coincidentally chief instigators in the move to have Shepard extradited. (Interestingly, both distinguished gentlemen were being bankrolled by Lawson Biosecurity, one of the many tentacles of the Lawson Industries empire.) Vid footage extracted from Shepard's omni-tool of Dr. Kenson being tortured by a Batarian was anonymously released to the extranet, and went viral in minutes.

Within one week of Shepard's arrest, the Batarians were sweating under the scrutiny of Council weapons inspectors and the outraged wrath of the Turian Hierarchy, several notable Hegemony generals vanished from their posts, Khalisa al-Jilani racked up two high-profile political scalps when the outed Senators resigned in disgrace, and anti-Batarian sentiment on Earth rose sharply enough to mean any attempt at appeasement would result in a popular backlash, six weeks before the mid-term senate and congress elections. The tenth anniversary of the Skyllian Blitz was nothing the Shadow Broker could influence, but it certainly provided the icing on the cake, with vid clips of the incredibly youthful Lieutenant Shepard (Goddess, she seems barely more than a child, and her hair is so short) receiving the Star of Terra on every extranet news channel for days, advertising a special report from the Alliance military's propaganda program, Battlespace. Shepard's trial was quietly downgraded, then postponed, then put on indefinite hold. I was confident that I could influence even that, but I never got a chance. Other work kept getting in the way.

First there was the matter of operational security. Shepard's involvement with Cerberus had made the Broker's base on Hagalaz vulnerable. The Illusive Man does not like to share knowledge or power, and he knew the ship was a soft target with only Feron and I aboard. As soon as Shepard left for Earth, I began preparations for a move. The old Broker, upon killing his predecessor, had never bothered to make any upgrades or improvements, simply using the tools he was presented with. As a result, most of the systems on the ship not connected to keeping it in flight were horribly superannuated, slow and wasteful. Using Glyph's analytical software, which Legion had kindly optimized for me while waiting for a geth ship to pick him up (Shepard couldn't really drop him off on Omega with the others) I tapped into the STG mainframe to assess their system's capacities and organisation. Within a few hours, I had a hardware shopping list, a new stack of custom software the VI had coded, and some labyrinthine geth-derived security protocols to rival even the Council's encryption. Using my own legitimate brokerage as a front, I bought the new equipment, a small enough rig to be installed on the little shuttle I had relieved Tazzik of two years ago (the irony of the Shadow Broker's repossession of the stolen property was not lost on me). Through the Shadow network, I acquired a state-of-the-art ship's cloak from the asari military's research division, and secured cloud space within the matriarchy's dedicated and extremely secure server network. For good measure, I set up similar storage within the human, Turian and Salarian government networks as well, and two within the Galactic council's classified archives on the Citadel. I sent Feron to collect both the kit and the ship from Nos Astra, and while he was gone I spent a few painstaking days in engineering with Glyph, coding a series of instructions into the operating systems and biometric scanners, to be activated in the event of my departure from the ship without relaying a clearance code to the central mainframe. When Feron returned, we got to work on upgrading and downsizing, and within a week the Broker's central hub had been crammed into the tiny personal transport, the networked resources were replicated in each major government body's servers, and the giant base ship became nothing more than an enormous honey trap.

Secondly, and of no lesser importance, was my promise to Shepard to keep looking for the means to defeat the Reapers. The trail was very cold, and it took me a while to make any headway, but eventually it led me to Thessia, then Kahje, where a run-in with Cerberus showed me that the Illusive Man and I were chasing the same goal. Flattered though I am that he considers me an important enough player to discourse with directly, I was not fooled by his offer of truce. By rejecting him, the two strands of my activities were brought into confluence.

As soon as I got back from Kahje, I directed Feron to leave Hagalaz to begin setting up a final dead vault location, a secure server independent of any other entity, so that even in the event of the Reapers conquering any, or all, of the major races, we would still have access to our network and back-ups. En route, I had gotten in touch with Admiral Hackett to secure admission to the Mars Archives. The Admiral, although unaware of my identity as the Shadow Broker, knows me as a long-term ally of Shepard's and with my impeccable credentials as a Prothean expert, he was only too happy to accommodate my search for answers.

Cerberus's attack came barely two days later, in the middle of the night. Fortunately, I was working late, and it took me no time at all to grab my pre-packed gear and disembark, tripping the switch on my trap. I had warned the Illusive Man to send an army the next time he tried to kill me, and he had taken that warning to heart - two full troop transports rammed my cargo hold to board, disgorging dozens of Cerberus shock troops and engineers. In spite of my bravado, I was more than a little surprised that he had taken my threat so seriously, but in light of my association with Shepard, perhaps it wasn't so astonishing.

I undocked my little transport and drifted away from the base ship under minimal power, my stealth systems and the storm interference making me invisible. When the communication eventually came through, I am ashamed to admit I rather enjoyed it.

"Dr. T'Soni, I regret the imposition upon your hospitality, but I can no longer afford to have you operating independently. I'm sure you understand this is just business." The Illusive Man stubbed out his cigarette as though the gesture would snuff out my network.

"Just business? Then it's a great pity that you didn't send anyone qualified to deal with me. You took my advice on sending sufficient brawn, I see, but losing Miss Lawson's services seems to have set you back somewhat in your ability to deploy any brains." I offered a sympathetic smile. "Even so, even the stupidest of your henchmen should have managed to figure out what's going on by now." As I spoke, a gout of flame erupted from the starboard side of the base ship, right where the main engineering controls would have been. The Illusive Man glanced off to the side, frowning as reports began to reach him of an abandoned base, scrubbed servers, and a catastrophic engineering failure. I adopted my best imitation of Shepard's sardonic drawl as I signed off. "If you really thought I was just going to sit on that hulk until you came for me, you have seriously underestimated me. Better luck next time, _Jack_. Shadow Broker, out."

I took my little ship to the Citadel, docking in the Presidium's private yacht compound, where security is paramount, and left the network to Feron's capable oversight while I followed up on my lead in human space. I caught a regular commercial flight to Arcturus, had a brief chat with Admiral Hackett, and was directed to Admiral Anderson, necessitating the stopover in Vancouver. I would have preferred to keep my distance; to be so close to Shepard and yet be unable to see or speak to her is galling to say the least. I miss her. The pain is nowhere near as acute as following her death, but not knowing how she is is hard. I know she must be angry and frustrated, and I want to see her, talk to her, soothe her fears, let her know that some of us are still fighting. I also want her to strip me of every stitch of clothing, throw me onto her bed and pleasure me until I can't walk, a flight of fancy that does nothing to improve my frustrated mood as I fidget in my seat all the way from Malaysia to Canada. Doubtless I gave an excellent first impression of asari calm and poise to the wide-eyed human family assigned the other seats in my row.

Anderson meets me at the dock in Vancouver, an unusual courtesy for an Admiral, and what strikes me first is how careworn he has become. He has lost weight, and he looks tired, pinched. Knowing the truth, he suffers, as we all do, from the inaction of those who have the power to ensure we are ready. Garrus has had more success than most with the Turian Hierarchy, but even there, it is a drop in the ocean.

Surprisingly, Anderson steps forward and hugs me. "Welcome to Earth, Liara," he rumbles. "I know I'm not the human you would have preferred to have met you, but..."

"It's kind of you to have taken the time, Admiral," I cut him off, stretching up to kiss his cheek, "so there's certainly no need for you to apologise." I fall into step with him as he gestures to a subordinate to take my bags. "How is she?"

"Angry. Bored. Lonely." Anderson winces. "Sarcastic." He sighs. "I'm doing everything I can, but the Alliance's bureaucracy is notoriously slow. I may tease her about going soft from time to time, but she's keeping herself in shape, keeping focused. She'll get through this, Liara."

"She shouldn't have to," I complain. "I'm sorry, Admiral, I know it's not your fault, but without Shepard we would all be dead already."

Anderson nods as he opens the door to his office and ushers me inside. "I know that, Liara. Which is why I'm glad I can at least do this." He activates his comm interface and after a moment, the screen resolves into a young man's face, tanned and scarred. "Lieutenant, I need to speak to your prisoner. In private."

"Yes, sir." The thick-necked young man snaps off a salute and steps out of view. Anderson winks, and walks out onto the balcony beyond the picture windows to give me some privacy as Shepard's face appears on the screen.

"Sir, to what do I ... _Li_?" The last syllable is incredulous.

"Rachel. Goddess, it's so good to see you. How are you doing?"

Shepard smiles ruefully. "If you had to guess, what would your answer be?"

"I imagine that by now you are so bored and frustrated that you are considering busting out and living out your life as a wanted fugitive."

"You shouldn't tempt me." Rachel's smile broadens with genuine humour. "I can think of worse fates. I'm sure I could find work with a merc company or something."

"I understand the Shadow Broker keeps close tabs on you. A rogue Spectre would be a tempting recruit for his operations, I'd think."

"Yeah, and it's not like that would be without precedent, huh? Ah, well, it's a nice fantasy," Shepard sighs. I bite my lip. It's not a fantasy as far as I'm concerned. If the Alliance hasn't reached a decision by the time I'm done on Mars, I will act to get her out of there, and if my only recourse is a prison break, well, I have the resources and the contacts to make that happen, and to hide her from the Alliance afterwards. I will not let humanity's bureaucratic stupidity doom the galaxy to extinction.

"It'll end soon," is all I commit to saying, reaching out to brush my fingers across the HI screen. "Are they treating you properly?"

"Sure. Technically I'm not in prison, just confined to base. I can work out, eat, study, train in virtual, most everything I could normally do except live fire exercises, communications, looking at intel, or see my friends. I'm trying to stay busy, but..." She shakes her head, then looks straight at me, forlorn and defeated. "I miss you, Li." The sudden lump in my throat chokes me for a moment, and all I can do is nod. Shepard smiles sadly, then squares herself up. "So, where are you?"

"I can't say," I reply miserably. To tell her I am practically within touching distance would be worse than cruel. "I'm chasing down a lead on the Reapers. Anderson's helping me with some of the bureaucracy, as it's in Systems Alliance space. It's a promising investigation, the best I've found so far. I'm not giving up, Rachel."

"I know, Li." Shepard is about to say more, but Anderson waves at me through the window. Time is up.

"Rachel, I have to go now. I'm sorry I can't talk more. Just... take care of yourself, and be ready. I love you."

Shepard's hand drifts up to touch the screen, and I reciprocate the gesture. "I love you too, Liara. Be careful, and be safe. I'll be waiting for you."

I close the channel and look up to see Anderson's sympathetic expression. "Admiral, please. Is there no way I could...?" I start to ask, and he shakes his head.

"I'm sorry, Liara, even I don't have that kind of clearance."

"And I can't contact her any other way?"

"Her mail is censored, and anything from her former crewmembers is being blocked. It stinks, but they're determined to be seen to be doing things by the book. No special favours for heroes." He snorts derisively. "What a bunch of pissants. Still, if she's caught with illegal comms, they'll have grounds to discharge her."

"I thought they already had?"

"No. Being relieved of duty isn't a discharge - they haven't kicked her out yet."

I hear his message, loud and clear. I cannot jeopardize her status by risking communications. If I am forced to bust her out, so be it, but I will give the Alliance this last week or so to try to live up to Shepard's expectations. "Then we must be patient a while longer. Shall we get down to business, Admiral? I believe I have a lot of work to do."

"Certainly, Dr. T'Soni. Let's get you to the Mars Archives."

* * *

 

"…So, as you see, not all that coincidental in the end, although I certainly appreciated your timing."

James grins. "De nada, Blue. My pleasure." He squints through undergrowth before us. "You mind waiting here a bit? Call of nature and all."

"Go ahead, I'd welcome the chance to sit for a while. My leg is still not completely sound."

James thrashes off into the undergrowth as I lower myself to a convenient rock in the small clearing we have forced a path to. It's peaceful, and soothing to sit outside for a while, even if we are castaways.

"It's nice here," Shepard comments, appearing and sitting down at my feet, her back pressed against my shins. "A bit overgrown, but the climate's good."

"The jungle is providing fresh fruit and water, which is a blessing, but the flying insects are a distinct drawback," I observe. "Private Westmoreland was bitten yesterday and went into anaphylactic shock. She is lucky Karin is with is." I shudder as I recall the size of the needle Karin had to use to administer the adrenaline shot to the unfortunate soldier. I am using a low-intensity biotic field to protect both myself and James, and wearing my full hardsuit.

"Vega had better be careful what he exposes to the environment then," Shepard chuckles. "Are the flies the only hazard?"

"No. Unfortunately there are a number of species of arachnids and proto-arachnids of varying size. Most of them are venomous, and rather aggressive. Poor Tali will not set foot outside the ship. I do not have the heart to tell her we found a nest in the QEC conduits two days ago. Even Garrus wouldn't touch it, but it turns out that Traynor, of all people, is completely fearless where insects are concerned."

"Wish we'd known that earlier – she could have come with us to flush out the Rachni on Utukku."

The image of Traynor in the Rachni caves makes me chuckle. "Somehow I doubt she would see it that way." I reach for Rachel's hand. "We're making progress. We'll be ready to get out of here soon, and then, nothing will stop me from finding you. Well, the real y… you know what I mean."

"Hold that thought, Liara," Rachel replies, squeezing my fingers. "Hold that thought.”


	31. A Race to the Archives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard

When Hackett orders us to Mars, initially I want to refuse. If I have to leave Anderson behind, I’m damn well getting to the Citadel as fast as possible.  I want to deliver my message and be done with it.  But Hackett’s mention of Liara stops me cold.  Liara’s on _Mars_?  Her lead in Systems Alliance space was right next door? The necessity of finding her suddenly overwhelms all other considerations. Not just because I know she’s been working to prepare for the Reapers, and now more than ever, her intel network will be priceless.  The need to know she’s unharmed is an ache in my gut, an ache that intensifies as I realise something’s very wrong in the Archives, and that preys on my mind as we infiltrate the base and while Ash picks at me about Cerberus and their unwelcome presence. (How the fuck should I know what they’re up to, except that it’ll be no good? And if any harm has come to Liara, I will personally rip out the Illusive Man’s fucking spine.)

   There’s a sudden commotion overhead, and a blue-and-white clad figure drops out of the vent grille ahead of us, wreathed in wisps of biotic energy. I’d recognise that custom armour, and the body that fills it so well, anywhere, and I feel a goofy grin spreading across my face as I watch the Shadow Broker wrap the two goons pursuing her in a biotic singularity and dispatch them as clinically as a pest-control officer puts down vermin. Inappropriate it may be, but all I can think as I watch is, _Damn,_ _she’s so hot._ Liara was adorable as an innocent, wide-eyed maiden dropped in the middle of a galactic crisis, but now, my Shadow Broker exudes calm, competence, and above all, a self-confidence that is as sexy as all hell.  My grin widens as I feel my heart rate picking up and the burn of desire light in my lower belly.  I’d been hoping to be able to greet her with a little panache, but as we round the edge of the transporter we took cover behind, I belatedly remember that Vega has no idea who this is, and have to smack his rifle down to prevent any unfortunate misunderstandings.  “Easy there, Lieutenant.  She’s with us.”

   Liara turns at the sound of my voice, and for a moment, joy and relief flare in her expression.  “Shepard.  Thank the Goddess you’re alive.”

   I’m so relieved to see her, so dumbstruck by the reality that she is standing in front of me, safe for the moment, so charged up by my sudden arousal, that the best I can manage is a half-strangled, “You too, Liara.” I reach for her, but she intercepts me, gripping my hands tightly.  Confident, sexy, kick-ass information broker she may be, but she remains wary of public displays of emotion. Caught off-balance by the aborted greeting, I hang in the moment, just staring, until she tightens her grip enough to make me wince.

   “I was so worried when the reports came in.  I’m... sorry about Earth.”

   Ash interrupts, and the moment is gone.  I drop Liara’s hands, and the conversation runs on to what Liara has discovered here, and suddenly my hopes are skyrocketing. A part of me is exulting in the fact that it’s Liara who’s discovered this, that a lifetime of study and diligence has not been left to ruin as she sifts through the secrets and lies of long-dead civilisations to find the few needles of valuable intel in a field of haystacks.  Her trust in the Protheans is vindicated, and I’m elated for her, almost as much as I am for the news that there’s a possible weapon we can deploy.  If we can beat Cerberus to it. And another part of me, much larger, just wants to jump her for the confident smirk that graces her lips as she offhandedly admits that she might just have discovered, y’know, the one thing that can beat the bad guys.

   I direct James back to pick up the shuttle, and Liara drops into place on my left as though she’s never been away.  With Ash on my right, I have a sudden lump in my throat.  Just like old times, as Garrus would say. Yet somehow, not quite.  We work our way up through the base with quick competence; Ash has matured, grown confident and decisive (and more stubborn and opinionated), with an even deadlier shot. But I am accustomed to having Garrus occupy this spot, and though Ash is every bit his equal as an assault trooper, I find myself missing the Turian’s constant wisecracks and unyielding trust.

   Liara’s return to my squad, however, is nothing short of a blessing. I had come to implicitly trust my squad on the SR-2, but none of the biotics ever really measured up to Liara.  Jacob’s range was too limited, Miranda’s abilities were finesse rather than power, Jack had most of the power but wielded it like a sledgehammer, and Samara, while possessing both power and control, could not be entirely relied upon not to take matters into her own hands when she perceived an injustice.  (More times than not while playing hide and seek with Thane through Dantius Towers, Eclipse mercs who could have shared intel were given no opportunity to talk.) Liara’s power is formidable, even among asari, and the discipline and control with which she wields it is masterful.  I’ve seen the exercises she puts herself through to hone that control, and she matches the most committed marine in her adherence to skill drills and training. There is no biotic in the galaxy I would rather have on my side, and not just because I’m crazy about her. Within minutes, the three of us have settled back into our old pattern; Ash drawing fire, Liara popping a singularity in behind enemy cover, and me cleaning their clocks for them.   Un-fucking-stoppable. 

   Liara’s solid trust, reassuring touches, and complete confidence in me is a salve on Ash’s suspicious sniping about Cerberus, and when she asks me how I manage to maintain my focus, my answer may be publically innocuous, but I see in her smile that she knows I mean her. Back on the Normandy, alone with her properly for the first time in six months, I can tell she is pleased to have me close, but her first instinct is to offer me a way out. "It’s been more than half a year. Should we continue where we left off?"

   “I’d like that more than anything, Liara,”I assure her, tracing her cheekbone with my thumb.

   “Good.” Liara looks relieved.  “I was getting worried.”

   "There are a lot of reasons I was happy to see you on Mars."

   "I'd like that list, but...later?" She kisses my thumb and ducks away from me. "There's so much still to do."

She’s not getting off that easy.

   Later, I invite her to share an evening meal in the privacy of my cabin, and after we've eaten, I flop lazily onto my bed.  "So, Li, tell me, why are you always trying to give me reasons to leave you?"

   She gapes at me, stricken with sudden apprehension by my question.  “What do you mean?”

   “Well, earlier was the second time you’ve created an opening for me to wriggle out of our relationship after we’ve been apart. Are you having doubts?”

   “No!” The denial is vehement, absolute.  Liara stands at the end of the bed, scowling down at me.  “I want this, Rachel.  I want you, us, but only if you want it too.” Her scowl fades, and suddenly, the nervous young maiden I first met on Therum is peeking out from behind the Shadow Broker’s mask. “If you’ve changed your mind, I’d rather know now.”  For an intel broker, Liara is a terrible liar; her body language is vulnerable, frightened, completely at odds with her attempt at a brave statement. She is afraid of losing me, and I suddenly feel guilty for teasing her. 

   “It’s OK, Li. I was only joking.” I sit up and reach out to snag her waist, pulling her down onto the bed beside me. “God, I missed you so much.  And I _definitely_ haven’t changed my mind.”

   “I missed you too,” Liara echoes, running her fingers through my hair.  “I’m sorry I didn’t visit.  I wanted to come see you.”

   “I would have liked that,” I admit, “but under the circumstances I think I can forgive you.”  I cup the nape of her neck and pull her into a kiss.

   “You’re too kind,” she rejoins sarcastically when she pulls back to get some air.  “Anderson said I wouldn’t be allowed to see you. I begged, but there wasn’t much he could do other than patch me through to that Lieutenant you have with you, directly from his own terminal.”

   “Wait, so that time we did talk, you were in Vancouver?” I ask, putting two and two together.  She nods guiltily.

   “I couldn’t tell you.  I thought it would make you feel worse, being so close. Besides, I wasn’t expecting much of the lead on Mars.  I had intended to chase it down, write it off, and then set my plans to liberate you in motion.”

   “Your plans to...” I narrow my eyes.  “You weren’t kidding about recruiting me, were you?”

   “No.  I wanted to give the Alliance the chance to fix their own mess; I know how much the Navy means to you, and I’d hoped they would see reason, but I felt we were running out of time.  The galaxy needed you out there, preparing, not locked in a cell.  And I needed you too.”  She looks up at me with a wry smile.  “Having gone to all the trouble of getting your trial indefinitely postponed, you didn’t think I was going to just leave you in limbo, did you?”

   “But then Mars turned out to be a good lead.”

   “Yes, and suddenly there was no more time. The Reapers attacked, I was cornered by enemies, and things started exploding all around me.”  Liara’s smile broadens to a grin.  “That was my first clue that you had arrived. And I’ve never been so pleased to see anyone in my life.”

   “As soon as Hackett mentioned your name I had Joker put the ship to maximum burn. I was worried when we arrived that we might be too late.  God, if I’d lost you to Cerberus...”  I brush a kiss across her lips, not needing to finish the thought.  “I think it’s fair to say my feelings on our unexpected reunion match yours.”

   Liara smirks contentedly.  “Good.” She threads the fingers of her left hand into my hair. “So, about that list...”

“Oh yeah.” I roll over to straddle her hips, resting my weight on my forearms as I lean in and kiss her.  “First, I get to do this...”

* * *

 

 

The kiss breaks, and Liara pulls back, brushing her fingers lightly across my cheek.  “Damn, I was enjoying that,” I complain lightly.

   “A little too much,” Liara chides me. She’s back in Miranda’s skin-tight bodysuit, a sure sign of my arousal.  “Is it our purpose to try and get you out of here, or simply to lounge around enjoying your disturbingly graphic recollections of every time we’ve made love?”

   “Well, when you put it like that, I’m warming up to the idea of the latter.  I seem to recall lots of people telling me I needed a break. And, for the record, that’s nowhere near every time.”  I start counting off on my fingers. “There was the time straight after I got out of the hospital on the Citadel, there was a whole week on Intai’Sei where, frankly, I lost count, there was the first night back on the Normandy, then the second night, and that was before we even…” Liara claps her hand firmly over my mouth.

   “You’re incorrigible.”                                      

   I peel her fingers away.  “No, no, no. I am possessed of a terrible singleness of purpose,” I correct.

   “You have a one-track mind,” Liara counters playfully, running her fingers through my hair.

   “For which I blame you.  If you weren’t so utterly enthralling, I’d be able to think about other things.”

   “I concede the point,” Liara grins.  “But I would like to offer an argument for your consideration.”

   “I’m all ears.”

   Liara laughs.  “No, you’re not.  You only have two of them, and they often fail to work properly.  My argument is this – if you want to add to your collection, you need to get out of this prison and find me. Think of all the places we haven’t had a chance to make love yet.  The opportunities you’re missing out on.”

   I affect a petulant mock-pout.  “You don’t play fair, using my own obsessions against me.”

   “I play to win, Commander, as well you know.” Liara ducks her chin and gives me her best come-hither stare.  “Are you ready to carry on?”

   I sigh exaggeratedly, and nod in defeat.  “Bring it on, Doctor.  Bring it on.”


	32. He Who Fights With Monsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liara

Traynor and I are working in Javik's quarters, checking the communications wiring conduits for damage. Sam is chatting away as she works, not really caring whether I listen, and it's soothing to have company that is, for once, not trying to pry into my feelings. I know my friends mean well, but Goddess, not every conversation needs to be about Shepard and how I'm doing. Sometimes, just for a brief moment, I'd like to forget.

After a few hours' painstaking, finicky work, we take a break, sharing a canteen of water and a protein bar. Sam looks around the cargo hold thoughtfully. "I wonder what happened to Javik," she muses. "James said he was determined to go off on his own and find as many Reapers as he could. I still don't understand why he'd do that."

"He was the avatar of vengeance," I reply. "His only purpose in life was to kill Reapers. Everything else was subordinate to that goal. He believed that hope, compassion, charity, and honour, weakened us. What he hoped for, what he wanted from his life, were not important. All that mattered was the fight."

"Let he who fights with monsters take care, lest he become a monster himself," Sam murmurs. I don't recognize the quotation, but it seems apt. My own struggles against the Shadow Broker bear it out; I veered close to becoming the thing I fought, and Javik… Javik was even closer…

* * *

 

"So, Li, how about taking a trip to where it all began?" Shepard enquires as she almost bounces through the door of my quarters. Having a purpose has recharged her, it seems.

"Where what all began?" I ask, only half paying attention as I monitor my feeds.

"Reapers. Saren. Geth. Y'know, the galactic crisis that threatens all organic life, but led us to fall in love?" Shepard grins. "It's all thanks to Eden Prime and its mysterious Prothean heritage."

I frown at her. In truth, I have always wanted to visit Eden Prime, but this is hardly the time for a side trip. There's so much to do. "And you really need me to come?"

"Well, that's up to you," Shepard's grin has suddenly become distinctly roguish, "but Hackett's latest data burst transmission had an intel packet on Cerberus digging up some new Prothean artefact. Seems they wanted it badly enough to attack the colony, so whatever it is has got to be worth confiscating." She cocks an eyebrow. "But hey, if you're too busy brokering shadows or some such, I understand. I'm sure I'll do just fine with Garrus and James. G and I have both seen Prothean stuff before – we can just randomly push buttons until we find out what it does, and James can take a sledgehammer."

"Don't be ridiculous," I splutter indignantly, shoving her shoulder in rebuke, "of course I'll come. The last time you 'studied' Prothean tech without my help you set off a volcano." I pull Hackett's data up on my screens, scanning the information. "They discovered a sealed bunker? Goddess, there could be a lifetime of study in such a find."

"Woah, easy there, tiger," Shepard laughs, embracing me from behind. "Don't get sidetracked now – we're go for mission in thirty minutes. Time to suit up."

In the shuttle we reminisce about our quest to stop Saren, Shepard, Garrus, and I, and what strikes me is that it seems so very long ago. So much has happened, even since the Reapers' arrival, that the details of some of our missions are hard to recall. The immediate fight has expanded to fill all of our available time and capacity.

Eden Prime is named for a humn mythological rendering of paradise, and the scenery as we approach the colony certainly lives up to the expectation, but as we close in on our target, the telltale plumes of smoke warn us that all is not well in this particular part of utopia. Shepard's brows draw down into a harsh frown as she surveys the damage to the colony. She has seen this before. I rest my hand against her neck, the only accessible part of her body, and she traps it there for a second with her own, almost without thinking, then she smiles at me. _I'm fine_ , her expression assures me.

"So, Liara, have you ever found, what is it humans call them, a dinosaur, on one of your digs?" Garrus enquires innocently as we head to the main dig site after sweeping the deserted colony. Focused on the thought of a new Prothean discovery, I fall for it hook, line and sinker, and Garrus and Shepard are still sniggering as we gather around the stasis pod that Cerberus have unearthed for inspection. Crouching down to study the readout on the control panel, my heart nearly stops _. It can't be!_

"Goddess, that doesn't seem possible," I breathe. Shepard arches an eyebrow at me, and I place a hand on the pod. "It's not a Prothean artefact… it's a Prothean."

Garrus primes his assault rifle. "Like the Collectors? Or those bodies we found back on Ilos?"

"Like the bodies we found on Ilos, but… this one is alive."

"You're right," Shepard snorts, "that doesn't seem possible."

I remind her that the only reason the pods on Ilos failed was because Vigil had been forced to manage a failing power supply. "This one still has power. He…" I check the readout again to be sure, "he's been in stasis for the past fifty thousand years. Waiting for us." Professional excitement gets the better of me. "Think of what we could learn!"

Shepard is tolerant enough to let me ramble on for a few moments about Prothean culture and my expectations before bringing me back to reality. "This could be what we need to finish the Prothean device," she observes, bluntly practical, and I nod, embarrassed that I let myself get carried away.

"I hope so." I wonder at what manner of citizen would be chosen to ensure the survival of the species as I take readings with my omni-tool. If we have unearthed one of their scientists, or one of their leaders, the opportunity to bolster our chances against the Reapers, and learn so much more from a culture we believed lost, is one that occurs only once in even an asari lifetime.

But nothing is ever straightforward. The pod is damaged, and our efforts to solve the problem are hindered by Cerberus reinforcements as we cross the colony to the research labs. Shepard and Garrus appear to be in the mood to indulge the enemy in a stand-up fight, and the results are predictably murderous for our opponents. The two have an empathy in combat, an almost telepathic understanding of each other's moves and tactics, complementing one other perfectly as they flow over the battlefield. They have fought together, trained together so often that their choreography is almost instinctive. I fit in as best I can, trying to avoid getting in their way and supporting as needed, and by the time we reach the first lab, both of them are grinning like children and the banter is approaching krogan levels of bravado and exaggeration.

Rachel loves Garrus, and the boost she receives from having her best friend and surrogate big brother back at her side is immense. It is a boost that is reciprocated; already, Garrus is far more like his old self than he was on Menae. With us, respected and trusted implicitly without need for rank or protocol, he can concentrate on soldiering, doing what he believes he does best. Garrus loves Rachel for encouraging him to better himself, for trusting him as she trusts herself. It is heartening to see, even if it does grate on my ears.

When we find the data we are looking for, I stare at the playback with a sinking heart. Doubtless the information we need is there, but it's static and gibberish. I exchange a dismayed glance with Garrus, but Shepard steps forward, frowning in concentration at the screen. She remains frozen in that pose for a minute then nods. "OK, I got it. I can duplicate that to open the pod."

I stare at her incredulously. "You understood that?"

Her eyebrows climb in surprise. "You didn't?"

"All I saw was static." Then as we stare at each other, the obvious presents itself. "The cipher," I say at the same moment as Shepard, and she grins as Garrus rolls his eyes. "Good. Then we just need to find the signal to deactivate the stasis," I recap.

Shepard's buried Prothean knowledge quickly obtains the final piece of the puzzle, and we work our way back to the pod, putting down ever-more-frantic attempts to stop us. A more serious, Atlas-mech-equipped assault has us diving for cover while we wait for the pod to run its end stasis protocols, but eventually, after Shepard gets around behind the mech and jams a grenade into its pelvic chassis, we are left with the dig site to ourselves once more, the silence broken only by the high-pitched hum of the stasis field and the plinking noise of super-heated metal shards cooling in the damp atmosphere.

I hold my breath as Shepard activates the pod's opening cycle. The doors slide back and I am face to face with the focus of my life's work. A Prothean.

"Goddess," I breathe, taking in the heavy, triangular head, the grey-green skin, the four eyes, closed for the moment but so reminiscent of the Collectors. He's wearing ornate, gold-chased red armour, heavy plate in a very alien design. Shepard steps up behind me and looks over my shoulder. "It might take him a few moments to regain consciousness." I lean closer, taking in more details; the deep red folds covering his throat, the pink shade of his eyelids and lips, the deep grooves running up to his nasal cavities. The even white teeth remind me of Shepard's, and his hands and feet are similar to a quarian or turian, three fingers, two toes.

Quite suddenly, his eyes snap open, and he fixes me with a baleful yellow, double-pupilled stare. As I open my mouth, he flares, a pale green-white light suffusing his body. _Goddess, he's a biotic!_ Before I can shout a warning, a pulse of energy cracks from him, throwing me into Shepard and knocking us both flat. I land on Shepard's midriff, and she grunts in pain as I scramble off her. Garrus is on his feet, keeping a wary distance, fingers edging toward his sidearm. "Careful," I warn, "he's confused!"

The prothean tries to run but his legs give out and he crashes to his knees. Shepard rolls to her feet and advances to cut him off, hands raised in the universal gesture of peaceful intent. But the prothean is no longer paying us any attention, staring out over the vista of Eden Prime. In fifty thousand years, nature has reclaimed whatever would have stood here when he stepped into the pod, and the humans have built over it again. The shock he must be dealing with is unimaginable. I try to warn Shepard as she closes on him and lays a hand on his shoulder. As soon as she does, both of them stiffen, locking into a rigid posture. I start forward anxiously, but before I can reach them, the prothean drops to his knees with a cry. Shepard stands quietly, rubbing at the back of her neck, and the prothean twists his head to stare up at us. "How many?" he demands.

Shepard shakes her head. "Just you," she replies, compassion softening her tone. The prothean growls and looks away. "You can understand me?"

"Yes. Now that I have read your physiology, your nervous system. Enough to understand your language." His voice is deep and cold, condescending.

Shepard nods thoughtfully. "So you were reading me while I saw…"

"Our last moments," the prothean cuts her off icily. "Our failure."

Shepard cocks her head to one side, considering. "Your people did everything they could," she corrects. "They never gave up. And I could use some of that commitment now."

The prothean stares at her, but Shepard is denied the chance to follow up by Cortez radioing in a sit-rep on Cerberus activity. The ancient alien turns to face Garrus and I as we approach, and mutters something about primitives as Shepard completes her orders to Cortez. "It's not safe here," she says as she walks across to my side. "Will you come with us?"

"You fight the Reapers?" he asks, and Shepard nods. The Prothean considers for a moment, then mirrors the gesture, and we head to the LZ in introspective silence.

**oooooo**

That evening, unsettled by the day's events, I head up to Shepard's cabin, hoping she has time to talk. As I approach the door it hisses open; Shepard must have keyed it to my biometric signature, an open invitation to come and go as I wish. Surprised and pleased, I step into the cabin.

Shepard is nowhere to be seen, but I can hear water running in the bathroom, so I take a seat on the couch. After a few minutes my lover emerges wearing only a towel. The sight of her long, muscled legs, coupled with my knowledge of what lies beneath the towel's almost inadequate cover, makes my throat go dry. Swallowing, I decide to wait and see how long I can get away with being undetected. She did set the door lock; surely she has to be aware she might not be alone at any given moment? A grin tugs at my mouth, and I do my best to remain perfectly still.

Shepard is humming an off-key tune as she ambles over to her bed and removes the towel, using it to mop the last traces of water from her magnificent physique. Watching her run the towel over her breasts and the sculpted ridges of her abdomen, the muscles in her arms and flanks rippling and flexing beneath her pale tan skin, starts an ache deep in my belly that I don't dare move to try and alleviate. Tossing the towel on the bed, she turns to start toward the lockers, presenting me with a full-frontal view just as she sees me and jumps in shock. "Christ Almighty, Liara, are you trying to give me a heart attack?" she gasps.

I tear my gaze from her breasts with difficulty and meet her eyes. "You left the door open for me. I didn't know you were in the shower, and once I did know…I thought I'd wait and enjoy the view."

Shepard grins sheepishly. "I forgot I'd done that. I meant to tell you earlier, but I got sidetracked." She crosses the cabin to stand before me. "So, did you enjoy it? The view, that is?"

I lift my right hand to my mouth and tug my glove free with my teeth, dropping it to the floor before trailing my fingers lightly across Shepard's belly. She flinches away with an indrawn hiss of breath. "Well, I'm a little disappointed by the brevity of it," I tease as I work my other glove off. Reaching out to catch her hips, I pull her closer and stand, gathering her warm body in my arms. She drapes her arms around my neck and we kiss tenderly. Shepard's fingers trail across the folds beneath my crest and I shudder. "Ra…chel," I breathe brokenly as her free hand traces back around to slide under my jacket. I run a hand up her flank and between us to caress her breast.

"Commander?" Specialist Traynor's voice blares across the comm system, and I start as Shepard pulls back. _Damn, damn, damn_ , she mouths as she rolls her eyes to the ceiling. "Commander, are you there?"

" _Yes_ , Specialist? I'd remind you I'm off duty," she snaps exasperatedly, and I clap a hand over my mouth to prevent my the giggle that surges up my throat at the sight of my stark naked lover unconsciously adopting parade rest as she speaks to her unfortunate communications officer.

"Uh, yes ma'am. Sorry. Um... Admiral Anderson is on vidcom. You did say to notify you anytime he called, regardless of your shift."

Shepard winces at the guilt and nerves in Traynor's tone. "You're right, Traynor, I did. Thank you. I'll be right down. Shepard out." She huffs a sigh as she starts toward her locker. "Sorry, Li." She shimmies into a pair of sweat pants and her hoodie, and gestures to the bed. "Get comfy. I won't be long."

In her absence I strip off my boots, socks, armour suit, undershirt and bra and filch one of her t-shirts from a drawer. Tugging the garment over my head, I curl up on the bed and wait. True to her word, she's back within ten minutes. "How's Anderson?" I ask as she sprawls beside me.

"Fine. Still fighting. I told him about our new friend and he was intrigued."

My earlier unease returns in force. "Javik's… not exactly what I was expecting," I remark.

Shepard is quick to nod agreement. "Nor me. He's quite abrasive, isn't he? Although… waking up to discover your world has completely changed, and nothing you thought you knew is quite right any more," she quirks her eyebrows humorously, "well, I can relate to that. Although I was asleep for a much shorter time. And I didn't lose everyone I ever knew." She leans over and pecks my cheek. "Or loved."

"His ability to read other people's experiences through touch is remarkable."

"Yeah… I really enjoyed all the flashbacks to the Reapers carving up Eden Prime and reliving those damn beacon messages," Shepard complains lightly. "Gave me one of my old headaches as an extra special memento as well."

I press a kiss to her temple. "Did you take something for it?"

She rolls her eyes. "Yes, Mom," she assures me facetiously. "As for Javik, it's too bad he doesn't know anything about the Catalyst, but another ground combat specialist will be useful with Ash out of action for the moment, and he may have some useful tactical insight."

"His views on allies and enemies are somewhat extreme, and he has a spiteful sense of humour. I worry about how he'll fit in."

"You don't like him," Shepard observes perceptively, and I close my eyes as I shake my head.

"I don't like him, Rachel. And I'm disappointed in myself. I should like him. He can answer all of the questions I have about his people, and here I am too childish to want to ask."

"Give it time," Shepard advises. "He might settle down, open up a bit. But, Li, there's nothing wrong with not liking him. He's not especially likable."

"Rather like Lieutenant Barnes." The second issue that has been eating at me slips out before I can parse it for offence. Shepard, to my relief, simply laughs.

"Barnes is a xenophobic jackass, don't worry about him."

"I do worry. He's an officer on your ship, and I'm a guest, in his mind. He was downright rude today, and I was only trying to help."

Shepard considers this for a moment. "You're right. And actually, I know just how to fix it, which happily coincides with something I wanted to do anyway. EDI?"

"Yes, Shepard?"

"Let the log show that as of this date and time, on my authority as officer commanding, SSV Normandy, I have appointed Liara T'Soni as my executive officer, and Garrus Vakarian as my Principal Warfare Officer, respectively second and third in the chain of command. Post a notice to the full ship's complement."

"Command officers must carry Systems Alliance ranks, Shepard."

"As CO I have the authority to appoint field commissions, right?"

"Yes, Shepard, you do."

"Then let the log also show the appointment of Garrus Vakarian to a field commission of Major, and Liara T'Soni to a field commission of Lieutenant Commander."

"So noted, Commander Shepard. Commander T'Soni and Major Vakarian have been added to the Table of Organization, and the change has been logged with Naval command."

"Thanks, EDI."

"Logging you out, Shepard."

Shepard turns to regard me with a smile in her eyes. "That should shut Barnes up." She runs her fingers along my crest. "I was thinking about our crew situation this morning, and I'd already decided to make the appointments. You and Garrus are the only other people I trust to finish the job. And Ash, if she recovers enough in time."

I'm stunned. "I've never commanded a ship, or a crew. How would I even know where to start?"

"You know more than you think you do," Shepard dismisses my concern. "Besides, the point is not to make you a ship captain – the point is to give you the tools to carry on should anything happen to me."

I don't want to think about that. "Let's talk about it another time," I hedge. "I'd like to get back to the discussion we were having when Traynor interrupted."

Shepard's slow, mischievous smile sets my heart pounding as she reaches for me. "Aye aye, _Commander_."


	33. A Dark Depraved Reflection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard

"Ever feel like you're in a horror movie?"

I grin tightly. Ash has thawed out considerably since rejoining our crew last week. "Yeah. If you hear sudden pizzicato strings, scream as loud as you can."

Ash sniggers, and Liara frowns at us. "What are you talking about?"

"I'll explain later, Li. It's one of those incomprehensible human pop culture things." I activate the flashlight on my rifle and point the beam of light down the lift shaft. "Looks clear. Cover me, LC."

Asari High Command's urgent problem is an Ardat-Yakshi monastery that's gone dark. Literally. The power's out, and has been for some time, judging by the chill in the air.

Despite Liara's briefing and reassurances, I can't quite dislodge the uneasy prickle between my shoulder blades as I slide down the ladder to the entry level. My brush with Morinth, however brief, has left me with a scar in my mind, the knowledge of what it feels like to have your will totally overridden by another. The whispering of another's desires controlling your body, your actions, while you pound impotently at the walls of the glass box they've trapped your mind in. I imagine that indoctrination must feel the same, and though I have no need of further encouragement to oppose the Reapers, fear of such a violation will keep me kicking and screaming until they put a bullet in me. I won't be taken like that, nor will I allow them to take Liara. My pistol is modded to always leave two rounds to spare, just in case.

"Skipper," Ash whispers in my ear through the comms. "We clear?"

I shake myself and sweep my flashlight around the entryway. "Confirmed. C'mon down, you two."

We carefully sweep the hall before us, working round in a clockwise direction. It's pitch black and deathly quiet, so quiet that it grates on my nerves. When a metallic clatter sounds behind me, my reflexes snap me round so fast I almost overbalance. "I heard something." Perhaps whoever left that skycar on the landing pad is lurking around in here.

There's a pregnant pause, then Ash sheepishly speaks up. "Ah… that was me. Sorry."

"Goddess," Liara sighs softly.

"Jesus, Ash," I growl, "what, are you sticking to the movie script? Why didn't you bring Allers' camera along?"

"Sorry, Skipper," Ash repeats, clearly embarrassed.

"Ahhh, don't worry about it. But let's try for a little Spectre panache, shall we?"

Our sweep turns up a dead Asari commando, the team captain, and a couple of Reaper thralls, one Rachni and some Batarian husks. "What would the Reapers want here?" Liara wonders.

"This place is awfully out of the way for this to be random, Skipper," Ash points out. "It's not like the Reapers have a foothold in this system yet."

"Agreed. In light of this, I'm more inclined to concur with Asari High Command's threat assessment, but still, we stick to the plan." I can't help but feel sympathy for the missing initiates. Ardat-Yakshi or no, they're people, and evacuating this place would have saved a lot of lives. "Sweep for survivors, find out what happened, then detonate this place. All the more reason to blow it if the Reapers are here. Let's move."

Ash confirms there's a nav point for the bomb, and we move onto a wide balcony beyond the living area, taking cover behind a glass balustrade as my HUD flashes a warning. There's a bestial squeal, the telltale whumph of a biotic slam, then footsteps clicking on the polished marble of the courtyard below. "Very good," a measured and very familiar voice approves, "I almost didn't hear you."

Relieved, I stand up, shipping my rifle and waving to the elegant asari justicar below. "Samara!"

"It has been some time, Shepard. You are a most welcome sight. The corruption here runs deep."

"So we were discovering." I gesture to Ash and Liara to break cover. "You remember Liara, of course. And Williams here is probably who you heard clumping around."

"So this is going to be a thing now?" Ash complains. I smirk at her, enjoying the chance to yank her chain. Liara rolls her eyes at the pair of us and turns her attention to Samara.

"I assume you're here on your own, Justicar. Perhaps for something special?"

Samara nods. "You are correct. Two of my daughters live here. I have come for them. But the Reapers had already infested this place when I got here."

I wince. Likely her daughters are already dead, but she knows that, and I know she will accept no pity. "Let's go together," I suggest. "Maybe they can tell us what happened here."

"I suspect they will have much to tell us." Samara's voice softens. "It has been centuries since..."

A scream echoes in the distance, a high-pitched, tearing shriek that stands the hairs on the back of my neck on end and breaks me out in goosebumps. Samara tenses. "We're out of time!" she snaps, her biotics sparking to life in a fierce corona. "I will draw these creatures off!"

"Wait!" I shout, but she's gone. "Aw, crap, why does she _always_... let's go."

"What do you think that was?" Ash asks quietly as we start down the stairs.

"I don't know."

"I don't know that I want to know," Liara offers, and Ash chuckles.

"Yeah, I hear ya, Doc." Ash is clearly rattled, keeping up a muttered commentary on doing other people's dirty work as we head into the wide courtyard. Liara is doing a better job of keeping her nerves bottled, but when we discover a commando's last note to her bondmate, recorded as the frightened young woman lay dying, tears run unchecked down her face. I wipe them away with my thumb, and she flashes me a pained smile as she saves the file to her omni-tool. Frankly, I'm worried as well. I've never met an asari commando who was less than lethal in her competence, and to see so many of them cut down around us is disconcerting. The Reapers don't seem to be here in overwhelming force, so what exactly is it that's giving them the edge?

Me and my big mouth. No sooner has the thought formed than a second blood-curdling scream rips the stillness, louder, closer, infinitely more intense. Pain jabs at my ears as I duck into cover behind a solid-looking planter. "What the hell?" yelps Ash as she dives in beside me, and I risk a quick look. The creature approaching us is close to three metres tall. A grinning death's head adorned with needle-like crests leers down at us from atop a gangling frame that seems to be all limbs and claws. The damn thing must have a reach like King Kong. The torso is a grotesque, emaciated parody of the asari form, with sagging breasts and a grossly distended belly. Throwing back its head, it screams again, and cold dread fills me as it glows with sudden biotic charge and flash-steps towards us. _This is what they came for_ , a tiny, rational part of my brain whispers.

The Ardat-Yakshi have been indoctrinated.

"Skipper, any ideas?" Ash bellows, unloading a full clip of shots at the advancing monstrosity.

"Keep your distance, keep it confused, hit it from range. You go left, I'll go right."

"Gotcha." Ash pops out of cover yelling a battle cry, and narrowly avoids being slammed by a biotic wave as big as a skycar. Christ, but that thing packs a punch. I mod my rifle to concussion rounds and slam the creature's barriers as I dodge in the opposite direction, pulling its attention my way. Vaulting over the edge of the next planter, I duck as a sizzling ball of blue fire roars over my head. _Fuck, that was too close._

I hear the dull thud of Ash's concussion rounds impacting, and the creature's barriers collapse. Flicking my ammo mod to incendiary, I tap my ear jack. "Ash, grenade! Liara, get ready to pull!"

Ash and I pitch frag grenades at the feet of the bastardized Ardat-Yakshi, and the detonation rocks it back several feet, momentarily stunned. Standing, I raise my Harrier and charge forward, unloading a full sink of inferno rounds as I close, trusting that Liara will yank me back biotically as my charge breaks. My gun clicks to empty and I drop it as I barrel into the creature, rolling into a ball and waiting for the lash of blue fire to pull me clear.

It doesn't come. _Oh, shit!_

The Reaper thrashes beneath me, fighting for purchase, and trained instinct takes over. I clench my fist, my omni-blade leaps to life, and I ram it right between the creature's sunken eyes. It shudders, wails one last time, and stills. Panting, I roll off the body and stand, dusting my hands off before retrieving my rifle. "Shit!" Ash exclaims as she runs up to me. "Too damn close. Shepard, you OK?"

"M'fine, Ash, thanks," I assure her. "Ah... make sure that fucking thing is dead, will ya?" I look around, and fear settles in my gut. I can't see Liara anywhere. "Liara!" No response. "Liara? Talk to me!"

"Sh-Shepard?" Her voice is faint, terrified. Running back across the yard, I find her huddled against one of the low walls, shivering uncontrollably, face streaked with tears. Nausea swoops in my stomach; please God, don't let her be injured. Kneeling beside her, I run my omni-tool over her, checking for wounds, but I find nothing. Cupping her face with my hands, I lift her gaze to mine. "Li, it's OK. It's over. It's dead."

She is fighting for breath, on the verge of a full-blown panic attack. I press closer, holding her head to my chest and stroking her crests gently. "C'mon, sweetheart, it's all right," I murmur. "Just breathe. I've got you. I've got you."

She lets out a long, shuddering breath, and I swing round to face her. "OK?" I ask softly.

"Not really," she grimaces. "I... that used to be a person. An asari. What have the Reapers done?" She looks sick, and frightened, vulnerable in a way I haven't seen since her early days on the Normandy. For a brief moment, Liara T'Soni looks her age, and I feel guilty for exposing her to this new abomination.

"C'mon," I haul her to her feet. "You can head back to the landing zone. Ash and I can finish up with Samara."

"No," she protests. "I'm all right, Shepard. They just shook me a little."

"Bull," I rebut her protest, but gently. "That was more than shaken, Li. You panicked."

"Please, Rachel," she whispers. "Please don't make me go alone."

I wrap my arm around her shoulders. "OK, if you're sure. Stick close to me, though, all right? Let Ash and I do the heavy lifting and concentrate on protection." I press a kiss to her temple. "Ready?"

Ash has tactfully kept her distance, amusing herself by popping any cannibal that sticks its head out. "We're clear," she reports as we approach. "That damn banshee thing is as dead as can be."

"Banshee, huh? That seems appropriate." I reload my rifle, and we move into the lower hall.

Samara has found one of her daughters, Falere, terrified practically out of her wits. The other, Rila, is in the great hall, having been abducted by the Reaper thralls. They are the last survivors, the others having been taken before them, and turned. "That settles it," I decide. "We get in there, get Rila, set the charges and blow this place."

Samara nods grimly. "These atrocities must not be allowed to survive."

Falere ends the conversation abruptly by using her biotics to drop down to the next level. Samara, predictably, follows her with an admonition to hurry.

We fight our way down through a few waves of cannibals and marauders. Liara's confidence starts to return as we take down these easier enemies and her training begins to reassert itself. When a second Banshee intercepts us, I can feel her trembling at my back, but she keeps her focus and her attacks combined with our earlier strategy of divide and conquer get us through.

As we reach entry to the great hall, we find the site where the last commando fell at her post. Ash stoops to examine the body. "She shot herself," she reports in a subdued tone. "Likely to stop them taking her."

Liara shivers, and I pinch one of her crests, hard.

"Ow! Shepard, what..."

"Stay frosty," I remind her. "Focus on here and now. We have a job to do, so let's get it done. Ash, can the commentary, will ya?" I glare at the LC; she should know better than to feed a comrade's fear so soon after a panic attack.

"Right, Skipper, sorry," Ash apologises, blushing as she locks her rifle. "Let's do this."

We're too late. Rila is already changing, beyond help, and Samara is desperately trying to reason with Falere, who will not accept that her sister is gone. Rila awakes suddenly, lashing out, and her attack on Falere at least achieves Samara's aim, but it's hard to watch the hope dying in Falere's eyes. Liara turns away first, moving to check the bomb with tears streaming down her face. "We need a detonator," she reports woodenly.

"The commandos would have had one, we just need to find..." A banshee scream cuts me off, and I twist around to see two of them advancing down the steps with a gaggle of cannibals, husks, and marauders in tow. "Incoming! Samara, protect your girls and that bomb! Ash, Li, cover! Get their barriers down!"

Samara throws up a barrier as my team takes up flanking fire positions. My hardsuit jacks up my adrenaline for a few seconds, and I clear the cannon fodder, leaving us free to focus on the banshees. They're not nearly as stupid as the cannibals, and split up to try and flank us.

The fight is brutal. One banshee is a handful, two of them are a nightmare. Biotic blasts dance up and down the hall, shattering glass and concrete, reducing our cover and blowing our shields, forcing us to stay mobile and limiting our attacks to pot-shots. I tap my ear jack as I sprint the length of the hall, drawing attention and buying time for my shields to recharge. "Ash, we need to focus on one of them - they're too tough one on one. At this rate we'll just chew up all our clips, and one of us is going to fuck up sooner or later."

"Roger. I have position. Doc, hit the one on the left, hard as you can. Skipper, follow through with hot slugs." I throw myself into a roll, dodging the banshee that has followed me up the hall. Ash and Liara hit its fellow thrall, hard, and as its barriers crash, I repeat my earlier charge from the courtyard. The banshee collapses under fire before I physically hit, and now we only have one to handle. _All right! Let's..._

Liara's scream turns my blood to ice.

Time slows as I spin round. The second banshee, left unattended for mere seconds, is standing over Liara, claws already swinging for her midriff. Li is flat on her back, paralysed with terror, totally unable to react. "No!" I howl, snapping a shot off as the creature strikes. The concussive round staggers it, but not far enough for its stroke to miss Liara completely. Talons tear across her abdomen, and her scream this time is racked with agony.

A second concussion round hammers the banshee back, Ash joining the fray from a flanking position, and I scramble to Liara's side as I load my last thermal clip. Kneeling right under the creature, I open fire from point blank range, incendiary rounds tearing through its soft belly. It's not enough. I really hope Ash has enough ammo left to finish this before the damn thing rips my head off. I ready my omni-blade, but before I can attack, a biotic flare wreathed with angry purple slams into its face; with all other threats eliminated, Samara can act, and her reaving strike tears the banshee apart. I throw my rifle down, activating my omni-tool. "Liara, sweetheart, can you hear me?"

Liara's eyes are bright with shock and pain, but she nods weakly. "Rachel, I'm... I'm s-sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for, you just stay with me, all right? Keep your eyes open, stay awake!" I command as I apply a dose of medi-gel. The wound is serious and needs immediate medical attention; the gel will only prevent deterioration when we move her. "Ash, we clear?"

"For now. Time to bug out, I think, we can blow this place to hell and gone with the Normandy."

"Good thinking. Radio Joker – we need emergency medical evac and Chakwas on standby."

I raise my head to see Samara struggling with Falere, holding her back. Rila is staring at them both, and in her hand is the missing detonator. She looks over at me and nods. "There are hundreds coming. Go. Go now. Save Falere, and your friend."

Choked, I can only nod back as I haul Liara up into a fireman's carry. "Ash, help Samara with Falere."

"Evac is inbound, ETA four minutes," she reports as she strides over and grabs Falere by the waist, hauling the struggling asari away. Samara waits ten dangerous seconds longer, squeezing Rila's hand, then joins us just as the elevator doors slam closed. Halfway to the top, the shaft is rocked by the detonation, and Falere collapses in Ash's arms, sobbing.

Up in the courtyard, I lay Liara down on a bench, and hold her hand tightly. "We'll get you to the Doc, you're gonna be fine," I reassure her, though I'm too scared to be confident _. I can't lose her!_ She's bleeding again in spite of the gel. I apply a second dose, hands shaking so badly that I miss with the first two attempts.

"Rachel, it's OK," Liara whispers. "I love you."

"I love you too, Li," I sob, pressing a kiss to her palm. "Don't you dare leave me."

She smiles faintly. "I thought that... was... my line." Her eyes slide closed and her head rolls to one side.

"Liara, no!" I cry, tears boiling up as I pinch her cheeks and nose, trying to bring her round. She can't be... she _wouldn't_...

The shuttle roars in, Cortez performing a perfect hot LZ landing. The hatch opens and Chakwas jumps out. She makes a beeline for us, takes one look at me and shoves me away, straight into Ash's solid grip. "Keep her busy, Williams," the doctor snaps as her orderlies load Liara onto a stretcher and double-time it to the shuttle.

"We'll come back for you ASAP, Commander," Cortez confirms over the comm as he pulls the shuttle back into the sky.

Ash lets me go. "She'll be OK, Shepard," she says, but there's too much worry in her face for her to make the lie credible. I pace up and down restlessly, not really listening to the conversation between Samara and Falere, seeing the banshee towering above Li in my mind's eye over and over again, her blood leaking onto my hands as I fumbled with the medi-gel, her eyes sliding closed in her suddenly slack expression. Consequently, it takes me a few seconds to realise Samara has pulled a gun, and a further few seconds to realise her intent. Risking certain death for the third time in an hour, I jump the justicar from behind, disarming her and pinning her wrists.

" _Let._ _Go_." Samara's voice is cold steel, but I don't flinch.

"What are you _doing_?" I demand incredulously.

"An Ardat-Yakshi cannot live outside a monastery. There is only one way to fulfil the code."

"By throwing your life away?"

Desperation flickers in her gaze. "I _won't_ kill my last daughter, Shepard."

"I wouldn't let you," I return shortly, "but I'm not letting you kill yourself, either. _Nobody_ else is dying here today."

Falere approaches her mother. "Mother. I could have left this place at any time. I chose not to. I follow my own code, and I don't need a building in order to do that. I will stay here, rebuild, and honour the lost."

Samara relaxes, and I sense the crisis is past. Clapping her shoulder, I release her and turn away, to give them their privacy, but Samara stops me.

"Shepard, thank you." She tilts her head to one side. "Liara is your bondmate, is she not?"

"Not formally, but we... I'd like to make that commitment," I reply, fighting my tears back.

"She is a brave and kind-hearted soul. I find you to be well matched. You are in my prayers, dear friend."

Panic engulfs me. My head starts to spin, vertigo upends my senses and I crash to my knees. Ash yells something unintelligible in the distance, my gut heaves, and I throw up. Panting for breath, I struggle weakly as Ash rolls me to a sitting position, then forces my head between my knees. Sobbing uncontrollably, I focus on a fervent prayer to a God I don't believe in as I wait for Steve to come back. _Please God, don't take her from me_.

**oooooooo**

Liara is pale, her skin cooler than usual to the touch. I sit by her bedside in my quarters, holding her hand in both of mine, elbows propped on my knees, waiting for her to wake up. It's been twelve hours since I got back from Lessus, eight hours since I was allowed into the medbay after Li's surgery. I'm exhausted, but I want to be awake when she comes to. I need to see that she's all right; I was almost psychotic with fear by the time Steve picked us up from the monastery.

Chakwas agreed to my request to move Liara up here to recover, mostly, I suspect, because she was hoping I would rest with her. "Keeping her away from those feeds for a few days will be good for her, and frankly, Shepard, you could use some downtime yourself," the doctor remarked. "You've had a dreadful shock. I'm signing you off for forty-eight. Since we're heading to the other side of the galaxy to find the quarians, there's not much you can do right now aside from paperwork anyway."

I study my lover intently as she sleeps, and for the second time today, I'm struck by how young she is. She's barely lived a tenth of her lifespan, and though she hides it well, she can still be quite naive. Her reaction to the banshees is a good example; she's seen husks, cannibals, marauders, and brutes on the ground, in overwhelming numbers, and never once frozen in combat, but seeing one of her own people turned is not something she's ever considered. Ardat-Yakshi or otherwise, they were asari once, and the safe, secure assumption that her people were somehow set apart and immune has been shattered. If I'm honest, I kind of feel the same way. The asari are our cycle's apex race, benevolent, smart, and effortlessly superior, to say nothing of sexy as all hell. If they can fall, we lesser mortals are all fucked.

Liara stirs, and I shift from the seat to the bed, perching on the edge. She groans softly, and I carefully pin her shoulders to stop her moving too much. Her eyes open, and she peers up at me groggily. "Rachel?"

"Hey, beautiful, welcome back." I press a kiss to her forehead. "Just relax, everything's OK."

She opens her mouth to reply, and then the recollection hits. She gasps, hand darting to her abdomen beneath the covers, checking frantically for the wound she remembers receiving. I rest my hands atop hers, stilling them. "It's OK," I repeat, "we got you out, the Doc's already treated you. You'll be sore for a few days, but you're fine."

Tears well in her eyes. "Rachel... I was so scared," she sobs. "I thought I was going to die."

 _I did too_. The panic I felt earlier tries to rise up, but Liara's here, _she's here_ , and she's all right. She needs me soothing her fear, not amplifying it. "Hey, c'mere." I swing my legs up onto the bed and snuggle up beside her, draping my arm across her chest. I want to swear that I'll never let it happen, but I am too painfully aware of my inability to protect her from everything we face.

Liara sobs into the hollow of my neck for a few minutes, then quiets, lifting her head to face me. "You saved me again," she whispers.

"If I'd been quicker, you might not have been hurt," I counter moodily. My failure to prevent her injury has been eating at me since we got back. It's my fault she's here, my fault she has to face these terrors; the least I owe her is to be able to keep her from harm, and I failed her badly today.

Liara shakes her head, a small but emphatic gesture. "You saved me," she repeats firmly. "If I hadn't panicked, if I had been braver, we wouldn't have had so much trouble." Guilt clouds her eyes. "I got us into that mess, you got us out of it."

"It's got nothing to do with brave," I assure her. "Everybody panics sometimes."

"You don't."

"I do," I snort. "I panicked when I saw that thing standing over you and I damn near got myself killed along with you. If Samara hadn't been there, neither of us would have survived. I have panicked in combat on a number of occasions; it happened on Elysium, which is part of the reason I ended up with a damn medal. I did something suicidally stupid because I wasn't thinking straight." I stroke her cheek gently with my thumb. "You did fine. You were dealing with it, and you'll learn to control it."

Liara is quiet for a few minutes, clearly considering something. I'm content to wait; if she can bring herself to talk, it will help. "Seeing those monsters... That's what would have happened to me."

I frown. "If that were true, why didn't they turn the commandos as well?"

Liara's eyes are haunted. "I could hear them in my mind. Whispering, calling me, trying to command." She bites her lip. "Rachel, Ardat-Yakshi are purebloods; their genes are twisted, but those of us who are the daughters of two Asari are closely related. We, and they, tend to be stronger biotics. If I were to have children with another Asari, there's a high chance they would be afflicted. There were too many banshees at the monastery for all of them to have been the initiates - some of them must have been commandos, or the monastery staff, pureblood asari." She begins to tremble again. "I could hear them in my mind, and all I could think of was my mother, how Sovereign spoke to her." She rolls onto her side so that she's facing me, frightened eyes boring into mine. "I don't want that to happen to me. Please, Rachel, I need to know..."

"What?"

"If they take me, start to turn me, will you help me end it, if I cannot help myself? I would rather be dead than be one of those things." The naked vulnerability in her face starts an ache in my chest. My eyes prickle with tears, and my throat thickens.

"Li..." I whisper, and she cups my face with her hands.

" _Please_ , Rachel, promise me. In the name of the love you bear me, _promise me_ that you won't let me become such an abomination."

I roll away from her for a moment, retrieving my sidearm from the drawer in my nightstand. I hand it to her, wrapping her fingers around the butt and closing my own hand around it. Tilting it sideways, I tap the shot counter, showing two shots remaining despite the empty clip warning light. "Already taken care of," I manage to force out. "One for you. One for me. I promise you, Liara, I will never let that happen."

Relief pours across her face, and she smiles faintly. "I should have known," she murmurs. "Thank you."

"Nothing to thank me for," I assure her. "Get some sleep, Li." Setting the pistol back in the drawer, I kick off my boots and undress, then slide in beside her. Safe in each other's presence, we drift off together.


	34. The Needs of the Many

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liara

"Liara? Can I come in?" Tali is standing in the entrance to Shepard's cabin, bearing a tray laden with food. "I brought you dinner. I thought you might be hungry."

I'm not. My appetite is non-existent, but I know I have to eat, and Tali's kindness does not deserve a rebuff. "Thank you, Tali. Do you have time to eat with me?"

"Sure." The Quarian sets the tray on Shepard's desk and pushes a plate of rice and fish toward me. "I had dinner in here with Shepard after she rescued me from Haestrom," she tells me. "I was so convinced I was going to die down there. My entire squad was gone, the geth were hammering at the door, I was running out of food and water, and suddenly Shepard pipes up on the radio, all 'Hey Tali, could you just hack a door for me, then I can get into the compound and take care of all these geth for you?' I couldn't believe it. I guess that must have been how you felt on Therum?"

"Mmm," I agree around a mouthful of rice. "I had never been so relieved to see anyone in my life."

"Yeah, that's about right." Tali pokes a straw into the aperture of her protein shake and is silent for a moment as she takes a few gulps of her meal. " _Keelah_ , that's disgusting. The Alliance never did learn to do dextro rations properly." She nods at my plate. "Is that any good?"

"No," I admit. "It tastes of plastic."

"Figures." Tali takes another swallow of her meal. "Anyway, how I felt about Shepard rescuing me, was nothing compared to the realisation that she'd given us back our homeworld. She did what we believed could not be done."

"I remember," I agree, although my own recollection of Rannoch's liberation is much less rose-tinted than Tali's…

* * *

 

I am so angry with Shepard that I do not trust myself to speak. On the way back up to the Normandy in the shuttle, I feign sleep to avoid any discussion. Tali is beside herself with excitement, overwhelmed by the end of centuries of conflict and the sudden return of the Quarian homeworld to its rightful inhabitants. I will be happy for her, happy for her people, and for the geth, but right now all I can see in my mind's eye is the Reaper towering above Shepard, advancing with every intention of scorching the planet to charcoal to finally be rid of her. She survived, but it was an  _insanely_  reckless thing to do. She has no right to be alive; it is luck of the most exceptional kind that she was not incinerated either by the reaper or the collateral fallout from the Quarian fleet's orbital strike. I cannot feel joy at the reprieve. My relief is eclipsed by fury at her decision to risk everything on such a wild gamble. Goddess, I know too well that either one of us could be killed at any time, but to openly court disaster... Some small part of me recognises that my anger is a product of fear, but not enough for me to be able to rationalise it, control it.

As soon as the door of the shuttle opens to the Normandy's hangar bay, I am moving, brushing off Shepard's outstretched hand as she moves to intercept me. "Liara?" she calls after me, her tone surprised, but I do not reply or look back. I do not want to have this discussion in front of other people.

Reaching my quarters, I strip my dusty field armour, then avail myself of the crew bathroom to get cleaned up. The sonic shower is far from satisfactory, and does nothing to soothe my mood. Dressing in a casual shirt and trousers, I return to my desk and begin checking my feeds, hoping that the activity will displace some of my anger.

I become absorbed in my work, losing track of time as I tackle a string of Prothean translations for the Crucible. When I look up, eyes gritty from too long staring at my monitors, I have no idea what time it is; I only know that I am starving. "Glyph, what time is it?"

"Twenty-one hundred hours, ship's time," the VI replies. I have been here for five hours. Guilt claws at me suddenly, along with my hunger. I need to talk to Shepard; I never intended to leave it this long, I simply wanted some time to... "Goddess. EDI, has Commander Shepard eaten this evening?"

"No, Doctor T'Soni. Shepard has been in her quarters since returning from Rannoch. She asked not to be disturbed."

"Has she locked the door to the loft?"

"No. Doctor... however, I am worried about her emotional state. It is not like her to shut herself away like this."

"I know. I'll talk to her EDI, thank you."

I head out into the mess and collect two portions of the evening meal, some bland, mass-produced, reheated pasta with tomato sauce, then take the elevator up to the loft.

Shepard is sitting on the end of her bed, staring into space. She has stripped her armour, but is still wearing her compression shirt and leggings. Her expression is downcast, forehead pinched into lines of worry, lower lip caught between her teeth. My guilt intensifies; my anger has not dissipated entirely, but Athame's grace, I know that she has so few moments of victory, and my actions have perhaps soured this one for her. Setting our meal on the desk, I cross the room to crouch before her, resting my hands on her knees. "Rachel?"

She starts; evidently she did not realise I was there. Her eyes lift, focusing on mine, and I see pain. Pain my actions have caused. "So, now you feel like talking, huh?"

I look down, focusing on my hands. "I lost track of time, for which I am sorry. I did not mean to wait so long."

"Right, so you're sorry for that, but not for walking off and ignoring me?"

I close my eyes for a moment, seeking serenity. "I was furious, Rachel, what did you want me to do? Scream at you in front of Tali and Steve?"

Shepard slips her thumb under my chin and lifts my face. I open my eyes to see surprise in her expression. " _You're_ angry at  _me_? Well, aren't we a pair." She sighs, then sits up a little more. "All right, hit me. What did I do?"

I rock back on my heels and stand. "Goddess, you really have no idea?" Tears sting my eyes as the desperate fear I felt on Rannoch, trapped and helpless in the back of Legion's transport, reasserts itself. "I don't think I can do this. I..."  _Sitting in the escape pod, eyes glued to the search and rescue telemetry readout_... The tears thicken in my throat and I can't breathe. I look down into Shepard's uncomprehending stare, and her absolute obliviousness to her transgression trips the switch on my grief's dark companion. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"Liara, I don't..."

"Don't pretend you don't know what I mean! What possessed you to take such an  _insane_  risk with the Reaper? You should be dead!"

"It needed to be done!" Shepard retorts hotly. "If I hadn't found a way to get rid of it, everything we'd worked for would have been ashes, along with the entire fucking Quarian fleet and every man, woman and child aboard those liveships! Was I really supposed to just let that happen, Liara? Weigh my own life against the survival of an entire species? You know me better than that!" She launches herself to her feet, begins to pace around me.

"We could have found another way!" I shoot back. "We could have used the transport, or..."

"Or what? You know there was no time for anything else!" Shepard stops in front of me, grips my shoulders painfully. "Liara, you've seen me take risks before. You know this is what's being asked of us in this fight, that we could die any day. You know the result would have been worth the cost."

I reach inside her grip to clasp my hands to the sides of her face. "What I know intellectually and what I feel are two  _very_  different things!"  _Watching the Reaper stalk forward, firing, its malevolent attention wholly focused on Shepard's tiny form._  "For one thing, modesty be damned, you are  _not_  one random life to be weighed against others! You are the fulcrum upon which this entire war effort turns! No one else can do what you are doing! And  _don't_...don't ask me to stand on a pedestal of virtue that I cannot attain! I do not care how selfish it makes me, how petty minded, I would rather have you alive, no matter the cost! I do not want to lose you again, Rachel! I c-can't... I..." Words fail me, and I lean my forehead against hers. "Embrace eternity!" I feel her mind open to me, and I project everything I am feeling:  _my love for the woman who means more to me than anything in the galaxy; my anger at her for always, always being the one who takes the greatest risk; my terrible, growing fear of losing her for a second and final time; the panic that gripped me on Rannoch; and finally, at the root of my rage and anguish, the dreadful memories of her death. Joker in hysterics, emerging alone from the bridge escape pod, the crushing pain of realising she was dead and would not be coming back to me. Sobbing uncontrollably into Tali's shoulder at the funeral, physically being held up by the Quarian girl. Breaking down in the tiny spacecraft stolen from the Shadow Broker as I made the mistake of looking into the stasis pod that held her ruined body. The crushing loneliness of my months on Illium, where I would wake from dreaming of her to the cold, uncaring neon of a Nos Astra night..._

" _Stop!_ " Shepard pulls back from the meld, and I let her go, but physically, she steps closer, wrapping me securely in her arms, burying my face in the warmth of her neck. The meld has opened the floodgates, and I sob shamelessly, feeling her heartbeat against my chest, safe in her arms until my emotions are utterly spent. Shepard doesn't move, beyond lightly stroking my back, until I can lift my head and look at her. Tears have burnished her eyes to a brilliant emerald, and she leans in to kiss me gently. "I'm so sorry, Li," she whispers. "I forget far too easily that what passed in a heartbeat for me was two years of anguish for you. I forget far too easily how hard it must have been for you to take me back, knowing that you could face the same pain again. I forget far too easily how much hurt I've already caused you, even if it was beyond my control." She holds me close again, fingers caressing the folds at the back of my neck. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I love you."

"I'm sorry too," I whisper back. "I didn't mean to leave you to fret, and I know everyone is asking so much of you. I wouldn't ask you to stop; I don't like to ask anything of you, really, other than that you accept my love and support, but there is one thing."

"I couldn't do this without your love and support; it's my privilege to accept them. And you can ask for whatever you like. You've earned that right."

"Then please, Rachel, don't leave me behind again. I would far rather risk my life alongside you than wait for you, not knowing."

Shepard steps back a little, eyes searching my face and then she nods slowly. "I can't promise to take you on every mission. It might not be practical for a lot of reasons, but I would rather have you with me than not, as much as possible. Good enough?"

"Good enough." We kiss again, the last of my hurt easing at the contact. I can feel the tension draining from Shepard as well, and as we break, she smiles at me almost shyly.

"Was that dinner you brought with you?"

"Yes. EDI told me you hadn't eaten."

"She's worse than my mother sometimes."

"I heard that, Shepard," EDI remarks tartly.

"You were meant to. Now, if you wouldn't mind re-engaging whatever privacy protocols you have, that'd be great."

"Activating them now. Enjoy your evening with Liara, Shepard."

"I intend to." Shepard plucks at her combat top. "I need to get cleaned up. Do you want to wait while I grab a shower, then eat? We can reheat the food."

I tug my shirt off and toss it onto the bed. "Mind if I join you? The sonic shower I had earlier was distinctly unsatisfactory, and the food won't get any colder."

"Between you and Traynor, I might begin to suspect that people only want to get close to me to use my bathroom," Shepard remarks wryly as she lifts her compression top off and chucks it on top of my shirt.

"Traynor actually made a move?" I ask as casually as my sudden jealousy will permit as I peel my vest up and over my head. Shepard considers this for a moment with a knowing grin while watching me undress, scratching absently at the back of her neck.

"Half a move," she decides eventually, bending to strip her leggings off. "It was pretty neatly done, actually, easy to turn down without creating any awkward fallout. Saved herself some embarrassment. Not like some other people, who just walk into your cabin one evening and try that tired old 'we should sleep together, because tomorrow we might die' routine."

"Somebody seriously said that to you?" I ask incredulously, and Shepard starts to laugh as she moves in to help divest me of the last of my underwear.

"Mmm. But I let her off, because she was also  _incredibly_  beautiful," Shepard kisses the hollow between my collarbone and my neck as she slides my bra strap off my shoulder, "intelligent... brave... and kind. Not to mention unused to dealing with humans and their stupid idioms."

"So what became of this gauche but somehow endearing would-be lover?" I enquire, shivering in anticipation as Shepard's fingers trail down to my breasts.

"She became the galaxy's most influential information broker, and the most important person in my life. She's getting better with human idioms, too."

"Commander Shepard?"

"Mmm?"

"If you don't make good on all this teasing _, right now,_ you'll be having a cold shower. Alone."

"See what I mean?"


	35. A Darkness Breached

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard

I'm cold.

I can't seem to get warm. I'm sitting on my bed, wrapped in my duvet, mug of hot chocolate burning my fingers, and yet I'm shivering. Nothing seems to be able to take the chill from my body.

My head feels like someone is crushing it in a vice, and the dim light hurts my eyes. The painkillers Karin has prescribed have had little effect, taking the edge off the pain but unable to banish it completely. My nose is still bleeding every so often, intermittent and uncontrollable.

I take a gulp of hot chocolate, and it warms me briefly, but all too soon the soothing heat fades and I'm shivering again. It's the worst comedown I've ever experienced, and I fervently hope it will wear off before too much longer.

The door to the cabin hisses open without announcement. Only two people aboard, Karin and Liara, enjoy that privilege. For all that the Doc is a close friend, I am happy to see my guest is the latter. I may be about to endure the same lecture about foolhardy stupidity, but it will be easier to get Liara to forgive me; Karin seems to take each of my mishaps as some sort of vast personal insult. "Hey, Li."

"How are you feeling?" The asari has foregone her usual light combat suit for soft trousers and a vest, giving me a nice view of her lithe body.

"Still freezing," I admit, taking another gulp of my drink. "I tried showering, this is my third hot drink, nothing seems to work."

Liara sits down next to me and rests the back of her hand briefly against my cheek. "You still feel cold," she observes, "but it's not as bad as it was. Goddess, you were like a block of ice when we pulled you out of that mech." She rests her head on my shoulder. "You scared me," she says quietly.

"I'm OK, Li." I try for reassuring, but the worry I can see in her eyes does not abate. Somehow, her quiet remonstration is worse than if she were yelling at me again.

"You stopped breathing," she tells me, a tremor rippling across her tone. "In the shuttle, for a few seconds. If Garrus hadn't been there..." She squeezes my arm. "Don't ever do that again."

"That I can promise." Guilt for putting her through yet another bout of anguish pricks at me as she strokes my hand tenderly. I may not have promised her anything, but I feel like I betrayed her all the same. Once again, however, there wasn't any other choice. "I'm sorry, babe."

Liara nods in acceptance. "It was the only way any of us were getting off that wreck alive, I know that, but you took an appalling risk down there. Was it worth it?"

"I don't know," I confess. "Leviathan and its offspring are powerful, no question, but they're as alien to us as the Reapers. I intrigued it, I think; it implied that it had been watching, and that we were making more progress than sheer dumb luck could account for. And now that they've been discovered, their survival depends on winning this war too." I sigh heavily. "I don't think I made any friends, though, backing them into a corner like that. One more reason to keep my hardsuit on." I wince as a pulse of pain shoots through my head, and rub at my forehead to try and ease it.

Liara notices the movement, and lifts her head, twisting round till we're face to face. "Your head?" she asks, and when I nod gingerly in confirmation, she places the index and middle fingers of each hand against my temples. Her touch is warm against my chilled skin as she gently massages it in tiny circles. Some of the pressure eases, and I let out a heartfelt little groan of relief.

"Better?"

"A bit. God, I feel like someone's trying to crack my head open."

"Is it anything like the pain from the beacons?"

"It's worse," I admit. "But it's the same kind of pain."

Liara purses her lips for a moment, thinking. "The symptoms are similar to if you had been exposed to a meld for too long, or if you had been... forced."

"Kind of like an Ardat-Yakshi?" I ask, suppressing a shiver.

Liara nods. "Exactly. Your brain will be in overdrive, trying to process the information. There are some relaxation techniques that might help, but the pain will doubtless not allow you to focus." She traces her thumb down the side of my face. "I could try to help?"

"Yeah, Li, if there's anything you can do..." Deep down, I'm a little worried by the fact that the pain doesn't seem to be wearing off. There's too much to do, too much at stake for me to be laid up for however long this will take to clear up on its own.

Liara stands up and takes my mug, setting it on the bedside table. She kicks off her sandals and climbs onto the bed, seating herself with her back against the headboard. She pulls her knees up, then moves her feet apart to create space between her legs. "Sit here, with your back to me," she instructs. "You can wrap the duvet round us if you're still cold."

I move obediently, settling myself between her legs and leaning back until I can feel her breasts brush against my back. She grips my shoulders and pulls me back until I am resting firmly against her, then she tugs the duvet up around my neck. Liara's body temperature is lower than mine, so normally she feels slightly cooler than me, but tonight, cold as I am, the warmth of her body seems to burn into my back. "Try to relax, Rachel," she murmurs in my ear before placing a tender kiss just behind my earlobe. She threads her fingers into my hair and begins to gently massage my scalp and neck. "Close your eyes, and imagine a place where you feel at peace. Somewhere calm."

I obey, conjuring the image of a wild sea shore, a cold, lonely beach on the far north-west coast of Scotland, on Earth, where I once spent several weeks on an N5 training course. With so few inhabitants throughout history, the area has a splendid, wild solitude that touched me deeply. "OK, I can see it."

Liara's fingers work steadily, rhythmically, unwinding kinks and tension points I wasn't really aware of. "Good. Describe it to me as I join with you."

"I'm standing on a ridge of grass and heather overlooking a beach, with the sea beyond. The grass is tall and scrubby, the kind you get growing where the land starts to reclaim the sand dunes from the beach. The heather is in bloom, clusters of deep purple peeping out from behind the grass stalks. There's a cold breeze whipping in off the sea; it smells of salt and freedom. The sand is golden-white, pristine, dotted with pink rocks, and the sea is bright jade in the shallows, darker blue as it deepens. The sun's overhead in a clear azure sky, and the waves sparkle with silver."

"Open your eyes," Li whispers. I'm standing on the beach I've just described, watching the waves roll lazily onto the shore. The wind ruffles my hair, I can smell salt, seaweed, and freedom. Liara is standing beside me, holding my hand, and a sense of enormous well-being and peace encompasses everything.

"This is beautiful, Rachel," Liara breathes as we step off the dune and down onto the soft sand. "When the war is over, will you bring me here?"

"Sure. I'd love to."

Liara leads me by the hand to an outcrop of rock, and she sits down with her back to the stone, patting the sand in front of her. "Here. Sit with me, mind and body in harmony."

I do as I'm told, and her fingers begin to knead my shoulders and neck, gently but firmly. "Relax. Feel the warmth of the sun."

I close my eyes, and warm lassitude starts to seep into every muscle, every limb. "Mmm, that's good."

Liara pauses for a moment, moving her head so that her mouth is next to my ear. "Now that we've got it fighting for us, I'd appreciate it if you'd avoid talking to Leviathan any further. I don't want any tentacled creature inside your mind," she nips lightly at my ear with her teeth, "except me."

"Oooh, I'd jump you for that if I had the strength," I retort, running my hands up her thighs.

"You couldn't jump a puddle right now," Liara laughs. "You're completely helpless. And you're all mine."

"Somehow, when I imagined being at the mercy of some omnipotent alien being with awesome mind-control powers, this wasn't how I saw things working out."

"You're not complaining, are you?"

"Well, you have to admit, you're not really all that terrifying. You haven't even given me a nosebleed yet."

Liara leans in, wrapping on arm across my chest and gripping my shoulder firmly to restrain me. "Perhaps not, but I do know your greatest weakness, Commander Shepard."

"Oh?"

Her hand slides beneath my shirt, ghosting over my abdomen. I try to flinch away, but she has me pinned. "I know you're ticklish," she murmurs, nibbling at my ear again. "Do you surrender, Commander?"

"Utterly," I concede, relaxing against her. "I'm your obedient prisoner."

"My willing slave?"

"Mmm, that too. Just let me get a quick nap, and I'll be ready to satisfy your every whim."

Liara turns my head, and her lips meet mine in a tender kiss. "As appealing as that sounds, I think you might need more than a nap. Go to sleep, Rachel."

I close my eyes, and the warmth of the sun and Liara's embrace draw me gently down into the welcoming darkness.

* * *

 

"That's a trip you still owe me," Liara notes as she pulls back from the meld. "If the Reapers haven't ruined the area, of course."

"Somehow I doubt it. That beach is a long way from any major population centres, which was the point of the training."

"What do you suppose Leviathan will do if it survived?"

"I can't imagine. What do you do with yourself once you've been forced out of billions of years of navel-gazing? Assuming of course that Leviathan even has a navel."

"It worries me a little, I have to confess," Liara says uneasily. "They were technologically advanced enough to create the Reapers – they are aeons ahead of even the Protheans in development. Even if there are only three of them, if they were of a mind they could pose a real threat."

"Well, one problem at a time, huh?" I tease her gently. "C'mon, let's try and focus on something else. We're getting close now."


	36. Only One Rule

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liara

My network is sputtering back to some semblance of life in certain areas of the galaxy. While connection with the major government centres is still sporadic, in the heart of the Terminus systems, at least one unlikely beacon of hope has flared brightly and started transmitting again.

Omega.

Last hope of the damned and the desperate, and now, seemingly, a safe haven for the dispossessed. I find it hard to attribute Aria's all-frequency offer of sanctuary to all who seek it to simple altruism; the Terminus systems, perhaps because of their lack of cohesive population centres or governments, have been spared the worst of the Reaper harvest. And in the Terminus, the only hard currency is eezo. Aria has it, but she needs miners and workers to process it from the husk of Omega's parent asteroid. Still, if it turns out that we are close to the pirate queen's dominion, we could do far worse than seek her assistance with repairs. I would hope that Shepard's help in restoring her to her throne would be sufficient credit. As I make contact with my few surviving operatives in Aria's network, looking for a simple status report, I let myself recall Shepard's rare deviation into flying solo, leaving everyone she trusted behind to bid her life to obtain Omega's vast resources…

* * *

 

"So, what did Aria want with you?" I ask as Shepard arrives in my quarters.

She sighs heavily, rolling her shoulder to crack it as she leans over to plant a kiss on my cheek in greeting. "She wants me to help her liberate Omega from Cerberus."

"Wow. She thinks big, doesn't she?"

"Agreed." Shepard wraps her arms around my waist from behind. "The thing is, the more I think about it, the more sense it makes. Aria has all the Terminus merc groups at her beck and call, and we could certainly use the resources, especially the eezo. But mostly, I don't like Cerberus having the run of the Terminus systems and getting up to God knows what on Omega. Given their attitude towards aliens, there's a lot of scope for people to get hurt."

Something's off; all of this is making perfect sense, so why is Shepard trying to rationalize it to me? "I agree," I reply, playing along for the moment. "I think we should help her. Aria may be somewhat unsavoury, but she's a stabilizing influence on the Terminus. The Council have pulled quite a few strings over the years to keep her in power."

"I don't want to know how you know that," Shepard notes wryly.

I shrug. "I'm the Shadow Broker."

"I'm sure as a Spectre there should be some sort of onus on me to arrest you for acquiring classified Council information."

"I'm sure. But you wouldn't be the first Spectre to "get into bed" with the Shadow Broker, now would you?"

Shepard snorts with sudden laughter. "Actually, I'm pretty sure I am the first Spectre to do just that," she chuckles before playfully running her hands up my midriff to squeeze my breasts. "At at least, I hope I am. The image of Vasir – or Saren – with that yahg is..."

" _Profoundly_  disturbing," I finish for her, blushing as I realise the innuendo implicit in my attempted use of human colloquialism.

"If we're dealing in human slang, the word you want is 'icky'," Shepard agrees, pressing her lips to the back of my neck. "Anyway, I'm glad you agree. About Aria, that is."

"Mmm." I tip my head to the side, letting her nuzzle up the edge of my neck folds. "So what's the catch?"

Shepard's lips freeze, and then withdraw, and I turn to see her looking almost comically crestfallen. "You're too damn perceptive sometimes," she complains. "I have to go alone."

" _What?"_

"Apparently, Aria objects to 'some of the company I keep'," Shepard sighs, twitching two fingers in the air on each side of her head to form quotation marks as she repeats Aria's comments. "I'm pretty sure she means the Alliance, and old Archangel down in the battery."

I'm not. "Actually, Rachel, I'm fairly certain that she means me."

"You?" Shepard looks surprised. "She doesn't know you're the Shadow Broker, does she?"

"No, but we've crossed paths a few times since I got into the information business, and recently I managed to wrangle my way out of paying off a fairly hefty debt. She wasn't best pleased. I have it on good authority that she refers to me as 'that stuck-up little pureblood bitch'."

Shepard's brows draw down into a thunderous frown. "Is that so?"

"Yes, that's so. And it doesn't bother me, so please don't feel that you need to act on this information, or go holding it against her. But it's a little worrying that she'd place our... difficult... working relationship over operational success."

Shepard shrugs, still frowning. "I don't think it's that, or at least not entirely. I think that to pull this off, we'll likely need to use some of Aria's secret resources and private contingency plans. That's the sort of thing she wouldn't want an information broker anywhere near."

I hadn't thought of that. "I suppose that's true. Not bad, Rachel."

"I  _can_  occasionally deploy deductive reasoning, Li," she grins.

"If only you'd do so more often," I retort mockingly. "You might not get shot so much."

Shepard chuckles as she moves closer, wrapping both arms around my waist. "You're absolutely right," she admits, "but somehow it never seems to work out that way." She drops her head to rest her chin on my shoulder. "I  _do_  have to go."

"Oh, do you?" A hot surge of irritation flares up inside me suddenly, fuelled by my worry that she will have no back-up she can count on. It could be Aratoht all over again. "Goddess knows no one else in the galaxy could step up for a change." I sound bitter, even to my own ears, and Rachel tenses. This is still sensitive territory for us, after Rannoch.

"We need the resources, the intel, and the strategic territory," she reminds me patiently. "And frankly, it's Aria's price to set."

"Can't you get Hackett to do it? Send a fleet to retake Omega?" I'm being childish, I  _know_  that she can't, but I desperately do not want her to go alone.

"Hackett can't spare the ships, and I doubt Aria would view an Alliance occupation force much more favourably than a Cerberus one. Letting her get Omega back herself is the only workable strategy."

"Do you have to be so reasonable about it?" I complain, flinching as her lips brush my nape once more.

"Would getting annoyed about it get me anywhere?" she responds quietly. "I don't want to go. I don't want to leave you behind. And I'm well aware of the danger, but it needs to be done. No point in getting worked up about it, that'll just make everything harder."

I sag back against her. "Athame's grace, Rachel, I know. I'm sorry, I just... I..."

"I know," she murmurs in my aural cavity, squeezing me tightly. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

"You have to go now?"

"No. Tomorrow morning will be soon enough." Shepard releases me and turns me to face her. "Find yourself a pretty dress, Doctor. I'm taking you to dinner tonight."

"You spoil me, Commander."

"Don't I just," she laughs, winking at me. "OK, I should get back to it. If anyone's looking for me, I'll be in Port Cargo, getting my daily dose of happy pills from the Last Prothean."

**ooooooooo**

Eight days later, Joker notifies me that Shepard is on her way back a few hours after we complete a run to Garvug to pick up Prothean tech for the Crucible project. I am relieved on many levels at the news. This has been my first serious stint in command of the ship as the XO for any greater length of time than a field mission, and while I am gratified by Shepard's trust, the responsibility weighs heavily on me.

We make pickup at the edge of the Sahrabarik system, in open space, with Aria's shuttle permitted to dock fully. I wait tensely for chime, but still jump when it sounds. " _Logged_ ," EDI announces. " _The commanding officer is aboard. The XO stands relieved_."

"Acknowledged," I reply. "Commander Shepard has the deck."

"Wow, Liara, you have way better grasp of command protocol than I do," Traynor comments as I step down from the galaxy map podium.

"If you hear it often enough, it gets to be second nature," I reply. "I imagine by now you know it better than you think." I raise my eyes to the ceiling to address the AI. "EDI, Joker has the bridge. Please inform Commander Shepard that I am ready to make my report at her convenience. I'll be in my office."

I head down to my cabin with a pleasant thrill of anticipation jangling my nerves. Shepard has been gone, completely out of touch, for more than a week. (I ahd previously ordered all of my agents on Omega to go to ground after Cerberus caught and publicly executed three of them.) My nerves are ragged from worrying in spite of myself, and I haven't slept well. The lack of information has preyed on my mind, and my body instinctively looks for Rachel's warmth beside me in the bed. I try not to dwell on it as I check my feeds, sorely neglected by my week of moonlighting as a frigate captain.  _She's home now_.

Shepard makes an entrance an hour later. "Hey, Li. Sorry I took so long. I grabbed a shower - believe you me it was obligatory - and some food, then checked in on the others." She grins lopsidedly. "Saved the best till last, you might say."

"Rachel. Welcome home." I cross the cabin to meet her, taking her face in my hands. Having not seen her for over a week, I'm suddenly struck by how tired she looks, how worn down. Dark shadows haunt her eyes, and she is paler than usual. She has lost weight, lost the healthy vibrancy of a human in peak physical condition. Goddess, she has changed so much in so short a time, since Mars. Hollows are starting to sink into her cheeks and here and there under the harsh glare of my screens, a silver hair reflects the light, a stark reminder of her mortality. Fighting tears, I lean in and kiss her cheek, hoping she has not noticed my moment of weakness. "Goddess, you look so tired. Come, sit with me."

She doesn't resist as I lead her across to the bed, flopping down on the soft covers with a heartfelt groan. "Ohhh, that's nice. Aria's not big on hospitality in her secret lair. Water, nutrient bars and a camp bunk I think a varren was using as a toilet. I haven't slept properly, or eaten properly, since I left."

I settle beside her, flat out on my front with my chin resting on my folded arms. "How was it?"

"Bad," Shepard replies sombrely. "You wouldn't believe what Cerberus... well, actually, you probably would. Right now I'm having a hard time telling them apart from the Reapers." She sighs. "And as for her Majesty... she's just unbelievable. Certainly lives by her one rule, I have to give her that. And she doesn't lack for courage, but she's reckless as hell."

"Must be, if you noticed," I tease gently, reaching over to muss her hair. "You're not always the most cautious of tacticians."

"I'm  _not_ reckless," Shepard protests. "Well, not with other people's lives, at any rate," she amends. "But Aria... we must have lost two-thirds of her people just getting aboard, and God only knows how many civilians died in the riots. But Cerberus would have cost far more lives. They were turning people into... I don't know what you'd call them. They called them Adjutants - they were like husks, but bigger, with biotic powers." A shiver chases through her at the memory. "It was... I don't even know what the word would be. I mean, the Reapers, horrific though they are, they have one purpose. To wipe out all organic life. There's no ulterior motive, no bargaining, it's a simple fact. We destroy them, or they destroy us. No middle ground. But Cerberus... what they're doing, co-opting Reaper techniques to try and elevate one species above the others, even indoctrinating their own... they're worse than the Reapers."

I wriggle closer, planting a kiss on her cheek. "You ended them, yes?"

"Every last one of them," Shepard confirms grimly. "But not without a high price. And the temptation to just shoot Petrovsky, even after he surrendered, was almost more than I could stand." She drops her forehead to the covers. "Damn it, Li, I'm so sick of this. I'm sick of losing people; friends, friends' loved ones, innocents. And I'm sick of Cerberus, making me ashamed to be a fucking human being. I'm so tired of everyone looking at me like I'm the one who can solve all of their problems. I'm just...s-so tired." She's crying softly, her body shaking with the release of grief and stress she has been bottling for too long.

I roll onto my back and sit up, pushing myself up the bed until my back hits the headboard. "Rachel, come here," I invite, patting the bed. Shepard looks up at me through the fall of her hair and her tears, and crawls forward until she is beside me, her head resting on my shoulder. She drapes an arm across my midriff, and I trail my fingers through her hair. "Lay down your burdens, my love," I murmur. "You don't need to carry them in here, with me." It is unusual to see Rachel let her guard down this far, even for me. She is never less than completely candid, but her determination and innate faith in the potential of others to do the right thing rarely permit her to fall into raw despondency.

We sit quietly for a while, as Rachel works her way through her moment of grief. Eventually, she shifts her weight slightly, craning her neck to kiss my jaw. "Thanks, Li. I missed you. Watching Aria trying to pretend she didn't care about someone brought home to me how lucky I am that you know how I feel about you." She sits up a little, looking me in the eyes. "I couldn't do this without you."

"I know that." Her words are bare, vulnerable truth, and I will not cheapen them with anything less than reciprocal, blunt honesty. "And I know I ask a lot when I ask you to be selfish, to think of yourself first, but I don't do it simply because I want you with me. Sometimes I do it because you need me to, because you are incapable of applying the brakes yourself." I trace my thumb across her cheek. "I will not let you kill yourself trying to carry a burden you cannot carry alone." I keep in check the traitorous thought that all I am really doing is prolonging her agony.

"I know that," Rachel says quietly. "I know that if I fall, you'll catch me. And I love you for it."

"I love you too." We kiss, chastely, and she settles back onto my shoulder.

"So what's been going on here since I left?"

"Not much. We ran some supplies to the Crucible, and made contact with some asari special forces on the rim of the Athena Nebula. Then we headed out to Garvug to pick up this device. Javik's taking a look at it. He isn't an engineer, but he can at least read the controls."

"Good. Any crew issues?"

"No. Well, not officially." I smile softly. "I had an interesting encounter with Specialist Traynor."

Rachel tilts her head back to look up at me. "You didn't hit where it would leave a mark, did you?" she teases lightly, and I slap her arm in rebuke.

"Don't be ridiculous. No, I just wanted to make sure she knew you were - what is it you call it?"

"Taken," Shepard supplies with a grin.

"Exactly…"

_"Specialist, may I have a word with you?"_

_Samantha nods obligingly. "Of course, Dr. T'Soni." She follows me back into my lair. I have put a lot of thought into this. I do not wish to embarrass Traynor, nor to be so crass as to issue any sort of statement, so I have decided on a two-pronged approach. Traynor is a trusted member of the crew now, so she should appreciate being taken into my confidence - personally and professionally._

_"Shepard has told me that she trusts you, so I think I can too, yes?"_

_"Of course, Doctor."_

_"Call me Liara, please, Samantha. I need some help boosting the signal to these outgoing feeds - they've been sporadically failing for about a week now. I can't afford to be out of touch with my network, at any cost."_

_Samantha nods. "Of course, I'd be happy to take a look. What kind of load are you running?"_

_"Tera-exabyte."_

_Traynor whistles. "Wow. Why would you need that much? I mean, I know R and D and intel brokering are data consumptive, but..."_

_"This is where the trust comes in, Samantha. I am a Prothean researcher, but I am not simply an ordinary information broker. I am the Shadow Broker."_

_Traynor's mouth falls open. "I beg your pardon?" she exclaims incredulously._

_"You heard me, and I will not repeat it. If you think you can help me, I'd be grateful."_

_Traynor gulps, then nods. "Of course, Liara, I can definitely help you, and I won't say a word about your scary alter ego." She smiles. "It's kind of like knowing a superhero's secret identity, which is pretty cool."_

_I have no idea what a superhero is, so I nod dubiously. "If you say so."_

_While Samantha gets to work, I potter around my quarters, sorting datapads and my belongings, checking my audio messages on my omni-tool, and waiting for an opportunity. Eventually, Traynor pops up from beneath the console, and turns toward me. I feign inattention, and hit the playback on a saved message just as the specialist opens her mouth._ "Hey, Li, it's me, uh, Rachel, obviously. Thinking about you. I'll be back as soon as I can. I made you a promise, and I won't forget that. I love you. See you soon." _Shepard's final message to me before heading through the Omega Four relay. It's short and to the point, and, more importantly, context free, so Samantha has no idea that Shepard hasn't just sent it._

_Traynor is blushing furiously as I look up. "Oh, I'm sorry, Samantha, I didn't mean... I mean, I got a little distracted," I apologize. "I didn't expect Rachel to check in. Did you need something?"_

_"Need? No, no, not at all," Traynor babbles. "I'm done. You can give it a go, see how you get on, and let me know if you need any more work done, yeah?"_

_I blink, nonplussed by Traynor's rushed speech. "I... of course. Thank you, Samantha, I appreciate your help."_

_"Oh, absolutely, anytime. Anytime. Right, must be off. Bye!"_

_I wait thirty seconds after the door closes before I even allow myself to smile. Mission accomplished._

Shepard laughs, long and carefree. "You're evil," she accuses as she recovers her breath. I crush her close, bestowing a kiss on her forehead.

"I am not," I protest. "I simply wanted her to get the idea without having to embarrass her, or myself, with a confrontation."

"Joker would have enjoyed that, I bet," Shepard remarks, still chuckling. "A bitch fight in the CIC for possession of Commander Shepard's body."

I clench my fist in front of her nose, summoning a biotic pulse that wreathes my hand in blue fire. "Joker would have been disappointed, as it wouldn't have been much of a contest."

Shepard's arm tightens across my belly; her whole body tenses. "You're so hot when you get all jealous, Li." She kisses the pulse point at the base of my jaw, then bites at it lightly, making me hiss. "Not that you have anything to be worried about. The specialist is a nice kid, but I don't need someone to worship me. I need an equal, and as far as I've seen, there's only one person in the galaxy that could be."

"Conrad Verner?"

Shepard's helpless laughter echoes round the cabin.


	37. Do Not Go Gentle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard

Thessia is burning.

The stink of smoke, broken stone and charred flesh hangs in a pall over Armali, filtering through the shuttle's air intakes even before we can pop the hatch to see what's going on. The acrid scent recalls Earth and Menae and unease settles in my gut. For all my projected confidence at the mission briefing, we are gambling on a slender chance here, and if the Reapers have successfully taken control of the temple, we are out of options. Assuming, of course, that the answer to the riddle of the Catalyst lies within the shrine at all. For once, Liara's network has been unable to provide context or intelligence for Councilor Tevos' odd request, other than the personal knowledge gleaned from Benezia's encrypted files.

Liara herself, having been adamant that she accompany the shore party, is horror-struck. Who wouldn't be, faced with the prospect of seeing their home being ravaged by the Reapers. It's a concept I have a hard time connecting with. Affronted though I am by the Reaper occupation of Earth, it is my homeworld but not my home. My anger at being forced to leave was far more a product of my being required to abandon people, leave the fight to others than of any strong feeling for Vancouver. My home has always been my ship, whichever ship I happen to be on. But Liara grew up here, surrounded by friends and family. Her memories of Armali are treasured, the last, cherished bastion of her lost relationship with her mother, tainted now by the charnel-house fingerprints of the Reaper's presence. As I watch the puny barricade at the LZ buckle under assault from husks and cannibals, the first wave of an onslaught as patient and merciless as the tide, the first sparks of anger strike in my soul. If the key to ending the Reapers, exacting justice and vengeance for the billions who have died, lies in this temple, then nothing, not even Harbinger itself, will stop me from getting there. And once I have the Crucible, the bastards will pay for every life, every hope, every dream they have snuffed out.

Anger fuels me throughout our trek across the shattered ruin of what most races consider Thessia's capital. Anger at asking Kurin's team to stand and die defending a field of rubble; at watching Harvesters deploy artillery strikes against fleeing civilians; at watching desperately brave commandos throwing their lives away in small acts of heroic defiance that barely inconvenience the enemy. At myself for using those sacrifices to deflect attention from my own team. At Javik for his constant, smug sniping at Liara, for his cold stories of Reaper atrocities in his own cycle, for his timing, for being right. (And for being so infuriatingly self-righteous.)

As much as it fuels me, anger also shields me. I can control it, channel its energy, use its strength. If I am angry, this angry, I cannot spare the bandwidth to be hurt, or shocked, or guilty. God forgive me, I cannot allow myself the humanity of compassion for the asari, not even for the one asari who means everything to me. Liara is in shock, stumbling along mechanically on my six, fighting almost by rote. Liara is hurting, tears running unchecked down her face as she sees yet another casualty, yet another atrocity, finds yet another memory shredded by the depraved carnage unfolding around us. But I keep pushing her, chiding her to maintain her focus, encouraging her with a soldier's dumb bravado, an officer's cool-headed discipline. I hate myself for doing it, but I cannot risk her breaking down, and I cannot risk compromising our mission, or more importantly, our lives, by opening myself up to her pain. Her anguish would undo me. And so, anger must be my sole emotion.

Fortunately, it is in plentiful supply.

Talon Five's death spurs me to new heights of fury, propelling us to the temple in an unexpected and unwelcome whirlwind of destruction. Jacked up on excess adrenaline, tipped past the point of control by too fast, too sharp a burst of rage on top of an ever rising baseline, time slows, and everything suddenly seems completely clear and straightforward, reality refracted by a new prism of perception. Kill them all. Destroy them. Spare nothing, spare no one. One harvester falls, then another. Three ravagers, five marauders, ten cannibals. All too slow, too weak, insufficient to stand against my sudden, perfect clarity.

Liara's hand grabs my shoulder, her cry of my name shatters the prism, and I'm standing with my hand on my knee, panting for breath, covered in gore and mucus from the slaughtered thralls, shivering with the high. Javik looks impressed; Liara looks sick, and frightened. I repress the urge to vomit, directing my omnitool to dispense an adrenaline course to bleed off the excess rather than let me crash, fingers trembling over the controls. It's been a long time since I had a berserk episode; not since Elysium have I lost control like that. Much of N7 training is dedicated to control; the course turns a naturally gifted soldier into a hair-trigger killing machine, one that reacts without conscious thought to the stimuli of combat, and the command and control of that instinctive violence must be rigorous and unyielding. New anger rears its head at my failure, and I shake off Liara's hand brusquely, even as a tiny part of me cringes at the sudden hurt expression my action generates. I need to keep going. If I stop now, I'll come undone at the seams with doubt. It can wait. It has to.

The temple births a new emotion, something beyond any rage I have ever felt. Not for the asari's dirty little secret, nor even really for Javik's petty triumph in finally shattering Liara's deeply held convictions, though that does get filed away to be processed later. No, this new wrath is conceived solely in hatred, hatred of the Illusive Man and his cyborg pawn, and everything they purport to stand for. Their twisted, selfish grab for power has condemned every soul in the galaxy to extinction. Hatred at myself, for letting them beat me, for not being smart enough or fast enough to stop them. Hatred of Leng in particular for daring to threaten Liara, for laying hands on her, hurting her.

For a moment, as I hang over the awful drop into the nothingness beneath the temple, I am tempted to just let go. I'm so tired of being tripped up, so tired of every fucking thing I do being compromised in some way by someone's pigheaded, selfish fucking stupidity. Hatred for the people of the galaxy for not doing more, not trying harder, for putting me, and, more importantly, Liara, in this position.  _Fuck the lot of you, if I let go at least I won't have to put up with your shit any more. Save yourselves, you ungrateful bastards._

As Liara frantically grabs me, it is hate and not love that drives me to grip her wrist and haul myself from the chasm. It is hate that drives me to chase the gunship with a pistol, shooting because I don't know what else to do. And it is hate, self-loathing, that makes me stand at the door of the broken temple, watching the Reaper dreadnought lay waste to what's left of the city; makes me listen to Kurin and her squad dying, one by one, alone and terrified; makes me slam my dislocated shoulder against a broken wall to reset it, welcoming and deserving the pain. This is the price of my failure, the price of my overconfidence.

I failed them. The Council, the asari, the galaxy, take your pick. But more than that, I failed Liara. I promised her we'd succeed, I promised I'd help her people. Of all the stupid, arrogant things to say. I can't look at her in the shuttle, still burning through the tail end of my anger, feeding my guilt. I ignore Javik too; if he says one more crass thing, I might well deck him. Clenching my fists, I pace up and down the confined space, aggravated beyond the ability to sit still.

As soon as Steve has the hatch open, Liara bolts, and I make no move to stop her. Part of me is screaming that it's wrong, that I should follow her and offer comfort, that the mission is over and I am free to indulge, but another, wiser part of me recognises that I am in no condition to comfort her as she needs. She needs me to anchor her, not load her with my own burdens.

Ash meets me, grim-faced, and helps me strip my filthy, battered armour. "This suit's done," she notes professionally, but gently. "There's a gash the size of Grand Canyon down your front, and you've stripped all the ablative coating. I'll put in a req for a new set from Hahne-Kedar."

I nod mechanically, and let Ash finish removing the ruined armour. I have no idea how the deep groove on the chestplate came to be there. "OK, time for a shower, Skipper, you look like you crawled through an abbatoir," the LC instructs me brusquely. She escorts me to my quarters and stands watching me with folded arms as I slowly undress.

"What's with the momma-bear routine?" I ask as I strip my compression gear.

Ash quirks an eyebrow. "You're not back with us yet, Shepard. Your brain's still trying to process through what went down, and it'll petrify you if you let it. You need to keep going, push on through."

"What about Liara?" I ask. Javik I couldn't care less about.

"Tali's looking after Liara. Get your own head on straight first, then worry about other people." Ash slaps my cheek and points to the bathroom. "Shower, Shepard. Get your ass moving."

I obey, glad to have someone else doing the thinking for me. Ash digs out a fresh uniform while I clean myself up, then pilots me down to the medbay to see Chakwas. The doctor checks me over, works my shoulder more gently back into the correct position, then administers a shot of booze. "Take this, Shepard, it'll help."

I knock the shot back, and the burn of the alcohol spreads warmth through my chest and makes my eyes water. "Christ, that's strong."

"Overproof rum. For special occasions only," Chakwas remarks, her strong, clever fingers checking my head for bumps or contusions. "Javik says you experienced some sort of combat rage?"

"I went berserk," I confirm unhappily. "Too much anger, I let it get out of hand, and then I just… I don't remember that much. Liara snapped me out of it, and they were all dead. It's happened before; I had a lock on it for a long, long time, but what we saw down there… Fuck. Karin, I was so angry. There was nothing I could do." My voice breaks, and tears sting my eyes.

"You did everything you could, Shepard, I'm sure of that." Chakwas pauses, ducking slightly to look into my eyes with her hands clasped around my face. "Not even you can single-handedly stop a planet falling, you must realize that. As for the berserk episode, well, that was inevitable. You've been under such huge stress for so long, you were bound to unwind at some point. I'm just glad it happened when you weren't in a position to harm anyone other than yourself. Though I'm glad you managed to direct it away from even that." She squeezes my shoulder reassuringly. "And if seeing something like that didn't affect you, I'd be more worried."

"Why now, though? Rannoch was stressful, so were Menae, Earth, Tuchanka, the Citadel. What made this special?"

"At a guess, because this was personal. Liara was in pain, and you were reacting to her emotions as well as your own, whether you realized it or not. You were using your anger as a driver; if the connection between you is as strong as it appears to be, you were probably feeding off of hers as well. A simple case of overload." Chakwas eyes me thoughtfully. "It shouldn't happen again – I doubt anything else we do will be as painful for Liara as this was."

"Has she been in to see you?"

"Yes. Tali brought her straight here. She has some bumps and bruises, and she's physically exhausted, but she needs time to process this, as you do. And I know you need to regroup yourself, but my advice on Liara is don't wait too long. She doesn't react well to solitude in time of grief."

"I won't," I assure Chakwas. "I'll debrief Tevos, and the team, and then I can spend as much time as she needs with her." I start for the door, then turn back, intrigued. "You really see a connection between us?"

Chakwas nods. "Yes. It's subtle, but it's there. The way one of you will always look up at the door just before the other enters, the way you communicate without speaking, the way she's adopted your leadership habits, the way you've adopted her stillness and poise; you don't fidget half as much as you used to."

I smile, genuinely warmed by the doctor's observations. "Thanks, Karin. I'd better get back to it; apparently the galaxy won't save itself."

Chakwas chuckles. "You're learning, Shepard. Good luck."

My conversation with Councilor Tevos is sickening, and when Traynor informs me Anderson is available, I almost ignore it, part of me wanting to chew over my guilt in private a while longer. But Anderson's time is precious, and so is his friendship. I pick up the call, and the man who over the years has been more of a father than my poor Dad ever had a chance to be, picks me up, dusts my dirty hands and knees off and delivers the boot up the ass I need to get moving again. I feel invigorated; still angry, but my mood as I assemble my command crew for the debriefing is more positive. I notice the damage to Liara immediately; she's pale, exhausted looking, her eyes ringed with shadows. She makes a half-hearted attempt to console me over my failure to anticipate Cerberus, but I'm done feeling sorry for myself. I've accepted my defeat, and it's time to move on to the next battle. Traynor's lead is atomic in size, but it gives us purpose, restores our mindset to forward thinking, action, and next steps, and my people are hungry to take the fight to the enemy who has been dogging us like a curse for weeks. Ash nods her approval as I dismiss the team. "Way to be back on the horse, Skipper," she congratulates me. I grip her shoulder affectionately.

"Thanks Ash. And thanks for earlier. I needed that."

"Anytime, Shepard. Oh, by the way, this new armour. You want the same paint job?" I've been wearing N7 black and red out of habit, but as I consider the question a new idea takes root.

"No. Make it white, with an Alliance blue stripe, and sky blue trim." The shared colours of the Alliance and the Republics seem appropriate, and one way or another, the end is drawing near. If I'm to be cast as a hero and a figurehead for the forces we've gathered, I'm damn well going to live up to it. And I want the Illusive Man and his bastard cohorts to see me coming for them.

Ash nods. "White knight, huh? You got it, Skipper."

I tour the ship quickly, checking in on my team one on one, before I head down to give Liara the attention and time she needs. My good intention backfires badly with Joker. I'm not in the mood for his humour, and he's trying to cope with his stress, his fear for his family and his guilt the only way he knows how. We snap at one another; the ensuing apologies are grudging, and I leave him sourly to EDI, who will doubtless be far better company for him than me. Garrus and Tali are more straightforward in their support, and their confidence is the tonic I need to finally restore my skewed equilibrium. Confident that I'm ready, I step into Liara's quarters.

"Dr T'Soni has gone to speak with the Prothean," Glyph reports cheerily.

Never has so innocuous a sentence caused me such disquiet. As quickly as I can without running, I head back to the elevator and the engineering deck, bursting into port cargo just as Liara lights up in biotic fury. "I have a name!" she yells. "It's _Liara T'Soni_! And I'd appreciate you using it from now on!"

"Hey! Settle down!" I inject as much force as I can into my voice, and Liara whirls to glare at me.

"My homeworld was just destroyed, and all he can do is  _gloat_!" she storms, punctuating her comment with a burst of biotics from a clenched fist. Risking being smeared over the walls, I step between the enraged asari and her target, my own anger growling possessively on Liara's behalf as I take in Javik's insufferably arrogant expression. Somehow, I manage to rein it in enough to defuse the flashpoint, and somehow by the end of the conversation the two have reached a détente, with Javik conceding enough to soothe Liara's rightful wrath at his casual deconstruction of her beliefs and his callous disregard for the fate of millions of her people.

I don't linger long with the surly Prothean after Liara's departure, pointedly reinforcing my expectations that he be a team player before making my way back to my love's quarters as quickly as I can. Liara sits on her bed, tears streaming down her face as she leafs through datapad after datapad of what I can only assume are casualty reports from Thessia. "Don't do this to yourself, Li," I whisper as I approach, plucking a pad from her hand. "You won't achieve anything."

"How did this happen, Shepard?" Liara asks, her voice thick with tears, refusing to meet my gaze as I settle next to her on the bed. "My entire civilisation, the asari's history... the Protheans made it a lie all along. My mother knew, the matriarchs knew... And... I abandoned my people to hunt for the Catalyst." The pain in her voice clenches a fist around my heart; not even when the banshee nearly killed her on Lessus did she sound so shattered, so frightened.

"You'd never do that," I protest automatically, but even as the words leave my lips I wish I could snatch them back. She does not need platitudes. She stiffens and glares at me, eyes blazing with sudden fury.

"They're dying by the millions!" she snarls. I nod my agreement; denied the outlet of argument for her rage, she looks down again. "I... I told those people on Thessia we'd save them!" Her anger is bleeding off already, quickly swamped by anguish and guilt. When she speaks next, her voice is a tortured whisper. "How many asari died because I demanded their help?"

"None," I say firmly, lifting her chin so that she has to look at me. Her expression is haunted, agonized, tear tracks glistening under the glaring lights.

"Shepard, that's not true," she objects, looking away.

"It is true," I rebut her denial, standing my ground, projecting as much confidence as I can. "You've been warning your people for four years, Liara. They chose not to listen to you, and there's not a damn thing you should feel guilty about." I reach out to take her hands. "Li, look at me, please." She does so reluctantly, lower lip trembling as she tries to hold back her grief. "Remember what you told me after Aratoht? That my actions were a burden I shouldn't have had to bear? Well, this is not your burden. There was nothing you could have done to help anyone today. If you'd stood with your sisters on the barricade, you'd be dead now too. It's not your fault; you aren't responsible for your mother's mistakes, any more than you are for mine. And this is not Benezia's fault, or the matriarchy's. Blame lies with the Reapers and Cerberus. Javik's right, damn him - don't you let those bastards do this to you, Liara, don't you let them win like this. Your people are still with us, still fighting."

Liara throws her arms around me suddenly, and I hold her close, imparting what comfort and reassurance I can through touch. And then, an idea strikes. It's a slim chance, but perhaps it will push Liara past this moment of despair. "And besides, if we move fast enough your people will have a chance to survive this, to start again. We've lost Thessia, but we haven't lost the asari yet."  _C'mon, sweetheart, you're smart enough to catch my drift..._

Liara blinks, and lets out a little gasp. "Helping the refugees! Yes, of course! That's something I can do, it's something I owe them…" She bounds to her feet, dashing to her console, starting to type at the interface feverishly, and I smile a little as I get up and follow her more sedately, embracing her from behind.

"I knew you'd think of something."  _That's my girl_.

She leans back into me for a moment. "Thank you, Rachel. Let me see what I can do with this. I'm not… not ready to talk right now. Later?"

Reluctantly, I accede, kissing the back of her neck. "All right, but we are talking later, and I am not letting you sit here all night. Come to my quarters at nineteen hundred. We'll eat, and have an early night – we both need the rest."

"I will, Rachel." She's no longer really listening to me.

"If you're late, I will come and drag you out of here," I threaten. She barely grunts in acknowledgement. Encouraged, I leave her to her work and return to the CIC. I check my messages, and upon reading Leng's snide, puerile attempt to goad me, I find I can even laugh. Traynor glances at me askance, and I share the message with her.

"Oh, that's just horrible," she gasps. "Why would it make you laugh?"

"Leng's already dead, he just doesn't know it yet," I reply quietly. "So his pathetic attempt at mind games is just funny. He tried to kill Liara. He's a fucking dead man." I nod to Traynor and make my way to the forward battery to talk to Garrus. We have an assault to plan, he and I.


	38. Rage 'Gainst the Dying of the Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liara

In my nightmares, Thessia is burning.

Nothing can prepare you for the sight of your home in flames.

Armali is afire, smoke rising thick and fast over every district of the city as the Reapers run amok. The turians say the asari are the finest warriors in the galaxy. We are experts in guerilla tactics, skilled exponents of the doctrines of decisive force, subterfuge, feint and counterattack. I am no authority, but Shepard is, and I believe her when she tells me my people are without peer in the art of war. But for all of our expertise, there is still such a thing as overwhelming force. There are far too few of us to make our superiority count, and our armaments are far too light to be effective in holding back Reaper shock troops disgorged by the Reapers may have weaknesses, we may face them down and defeat them in individual contests, but they can withstand the attrition of our assaults indefinitely. I can recall Aethyta's bitter recrimination against the other matriarchs with crystal clarity, and the truth of my father's prophecy will now be written in the blood of millions.

The LZ we make our drop at is defended by far too few commandos, already driven past endurance. Our arrival enables them to repel one assault, but it is clear to everyone, not least the commandos themselves, that they will not withstand another. Their commander, a weary lieutenant who has seen far too much death today, initially refuses to help us, beaten down by her own despair. Shepard remonstrates with her, but before the argument can really develop, Javik, to my astonishment, steps in. His words bolster Lieutenant Kurin's morale as she wavers on the point of surrender. "Find your courage, asari. This war can end if you do!"

His encouragement seems genuine; the lieutenant responds visibly, squaring her shoulders and letting out a long breath. "Get that barricade shored up and get those gunships in the air!" Further orders are snapped out, in confident, commanding tones, betraying nothing of the wavering resolve of mere moments ago.

For a moment, I consider staying and assisting with the defences here, helping my people with their fight. Securing the LZ for our departure will be important. "Shepard, should I stay here? I can help defend the landing site." Kurin's look is grateful; one more soldier will not make much difference, but the support is welcome.

"No. I need you with me, Liara," Shepard replies immediately. "We'll need you at the temple."

"But the scientists…"

Shepard closes the distance between us. "I'm  _not_  leaving you here, Li," she says quietly, but firmly. "God knows I sympathize with what you're feeling, but this is a last stand, and you know it. End of discussion. Get ready to move out." She will not be swayed, but I take a moment to touch foreheads with the Lieutenant.

"Goddess go with you," I whisper.

"Here's hoping," Kurin nods. "Your commander's right." She nods to Shepard. "Make it count."

Shepard clasps wrists with Kurin for a moment, a wordless salute, warrior to warrior, then leads us off down the bridge as Kurin rallies her squad. "Let's make sure everyone knows this war was won on Thessia!"

The fight to reach the temple is a waking nightmare. This is a district of Armali I know too well; much of my childhood was spent in these streets, and using the temple as a landmark, I can pinpoint the exact pile of rubble that represents the house that sheltered so much of my youth. Tears sting my eyes as I remember our neighbours and friends, the warm feeling of welcome I'd get as I turned the corner into the street coming home after a trip. There is nothing left but debris and death. There are bodies everywhere I look, adult and child, lives ended in fire and terror. My people, my home, my friends…  _Goddess, this can't be happening!_

Panic wells in my chest, and I gasp for breath. How Shepard hears me over the din of the battlefield and the nerve-scraping shrieks of the Reapers I don't know, but she turns back to me, and I balk as I see anger in her eyes. She cups my face in her armoured hands; her grip is gentle, but there is nothing in her expression but cold fury and determination. "Liara. Take a deep breath," she instructs crisply, and I obey. "Keep your focus. I need you watching for flank attacks. Anything trying to get round behind us, you sing out. You need to be sharp. No mistakes. We can't afford to be carrying you, got it?"

Biting my lip so hard I taste blood, I nod, and Shepard pats my cheek twice. "Good. OK, let's move. Nothing fancy, nothing clever, keep close and keep to cover."

I cannot close my eyes to the rape of my childhood; Shepard's orders were absolute, and we are in terrible danger; to mentally retreat from this ordeal might get us all killed. I do my best to keep focused, be the competent squadmate my comrades rely upon me to be, but each burning home, each banshee, each panicked commando, each violated corpse drive the talons of my horror deeper into my soul. Tears flood my vision every few minutes; every few minutes Shepard takes the time to look back and check on me.

Shepard keeps me upright, Shepard keeps me moving, Shepard keeps me fighting, chivvying and encouraging me with almost every step. Her focus is always impressive, but today she seems possessed by the very spirit of warfare, if such a thing exists, moving us through the battle as though our steps are pre-ordained. But the sacrifice is her natural tendency to compassion; she is cold and ruthless, as resolute and stern as Javik. I know it is a mask, I know it is a method for her to control feelings she dares not indulge, but it hurts me to see her so aloof, so untouchable.

Javik helps me too, in his own unintentional way, driving away my grief periodically with anger at his callous, unsympathetic assessment of the situation. As he recounts a tale of the Reapers using indoctrinated children, I am not sure what horrifies me more; the Reapers brutal tactics or how far the Protheans fell to combat them. As he speaks, Shepard clenches and unclenches her fists rhythmically, a sure sign that some of her anger is directed at our Prothean comrade.

I find myself focusing increasingly on Shepard as I try to shut out the nightmare around me. I have never seen Rachel so angry, for so long. Her rage is rare, and always short-lived, burning bright and hot as a flare; this slow-boiling wrath, chained behind that frozen mask, is beyond my experience of my lover. Her eyes are lit with red fire, and the eerie calm with which she speaks and acts becomes ever more ominous to me as time passes. Javik sees only a flawless warrior, the beleaguered lone sniper at Outpost Tykis sees only Athame incarnate, the Reapers see only the harbinger of their destruction. I watch her nervously. Something has to give before much longer; she surely cannot keep this up, acting in such a contrary manner to her outgoing, spirited compassion.

The crisis comes as Talon Five spins helplessly to her doom mere yards from our goal. Shepard straightens from her crouch behind a shattered column, her expression completely blank. She reloads her rifle and starts to advance out of cover. "Shepard!" I scream desperately, trying to catch her attention over the shrieking of the Harvesters, but she is oblivious. "Javik! Covering fire!" The Prothean complies swiftly, his particle rifle sweeping the husks and cannibals, distracting them from Shepard even as I throw singularity after singularity as fast as I can. But I need not have worried. Shepard, seemingly guided by some unnatural extra sense, moves unerringly through the scrum of enemies, dealing death with every shot. Her lethal grace is hypnotic, terrible to behold, but even though she seems to believe nothing can touch her, my heart is in my mouth until the last cannibal dies screaming, ripped to shreds with Shepard's omni-blade. Even then, Shepard does not stop, swinging round to seek a new target. As she sees Javik, the Harrier starts to rise, and there's no recognition in her cold stare. Readying a stasis, I take the risk of stepping in close, grabbing her shoulder. She wouldn't hurt me, I must believe that. She twists in my grip with the speed of a snake, omni-blade flaring to life and all I can do is lock gazes with her and call her name as I trap her arms in mine. "Rachel!"

She jerks away from me, shudders, doubles over, dropping her hands to her knees and sucking in several long, rattling breaths, her whole body shivering. When she looks up, her expression is dazed, her gaze is confused, but Goddess, I am relieved to see any emotion at all. As her confusion clears, she looks at me and smiles weakly, but now there's a haunted, bitter guilt in her eyes that I can't quite fathom. Javik nods approval. "The way is open," he says pointedly, and Shepard blows out a breath, straightens and nods. It's only then that I notice the deep groove running down her chestplate; caked as she is in gore and blood, it's hard to see clearly. I grasp her shoulder, open my mouth to ask about it, concerned that she may be wounded, but she brushes off my hold and walks on, priming her rifle. Stung by the rebuff, all I can do is follow.

What transpires in the temple shakes the foundations of my life. Javik takes such relish in revealing that the Protheans uplifted my people that his words surely cannot be anything other than true. I don't want to believe it - Goddess, how can I - and Shepard's logical, rational acceptance of Javik's words cuts me. I feel betrayed by her willingness to believe Javik over me, despite the evidence writ mockingly in every carved line of the ancient tablets, every scratch of ink upon crumbling parchment, every stroke of faded paint upon weathered stone. Javik tries to consolidate his victory, but Shepard cuts him off coldly, more interested in finding out what's hidden in the temple. As the statue cracks to reveal the beacon beneath, final, incontrovertible proof of our Prothean's honesty, I feel as though my world is now irrevocably lost. Athame's rude demise must truly be the end.

As Vendetta speaks, I begin to feel some semblance of hope. In spite of everything we've gone through, everything I've learned here, the missing piece of the puzzle is within our grasp. But then Cerberus strike, rendering futile with one stroke everything we have fought for and struggled for. We try to stop them, of course, enjoying initial success, but then Kai Leng executes his perfectly judged, malevolent gambit.

He charges.

Straight at me.

He's so fast I can't ready myself, and he grabs me by the throat, throwing me into Javik. The two of us go down hard, and I hit my head against the floor, a glancing blow against a step edge. Pain floods me, and I'm helpless as he advances, sword point weaving threateningly. Just as he gets within range, Shepard appears out of nowhere, shoulder-charging the assassin, and the two of them fall away in a clatter of armour and metal. Dazed, I can't see what's happening, but I feel the ground shudder beneath me, the heat and thunder of rockets impacting, and hear the ear-splitting crack of stone shearing somewhere off to my left. Shaking my head to clear my vision, I roll to my knees in time to see Leng complete his theft of the VI from the beacon. I am preparing to try again with my assault when I realise that Shepard is nowhere to be seen, and the far side of the temple floor is simply… gone.

Terror clamps around my throat. Did she fall? Frantic, I throw caution to the wind and start across the temple toward the fissure. Leng ignores me; he has what he needs. Relief pours through me as I see Rachel climbing determinedly out of the pit, but it's short-lived. With terrible groan, the section of floor she is standing on gives way, and for a moment, she hangs helplessly over the abyss, fingers slipping.

"Shepard!" I scream, pushing out behind me with my biotics, flash-stepping across the distance in time to throw myself down and catch her wrist. Pain explodes through my arm, but I  _will not_  let her fall. "Hang on!" She reaches up to grab my shoulder, and for a long moment she hangs, staring into my eyes, and there's nothing in her gaze but fury. Rolling sideways, I haul her up over the edge, and she's already moving before I'm done, firing her pistol with murderous futility at the fleeing gunship.

As we listen helplessly to the commandos dying, Shepard punishes herself further, slamming her dislocated shoulder against a wall to force the limb back into place. Her scream of pain echoes round the desecrated temple, and she falls to her knees, her whole body rigid with tension. I recognise the signs, and wave Javik off as he advances to assist. Shepard does not want help right now. She wants to work off her anger and frustration without interference. It hurts to watch her, chest heaving, tears streaming from her eyes, but after a moment she drives herself to her feet, and her voice is flat and calm as she radios Cortez for pickup.

The atmosphere in the shuttle on the way back is awful. Shepard is too agitated to sit or speak, prowling up and down the confined space like a caged predator. Javik sneers at me every time we make eye contact, his self-righteous expression making my hands shake with barely controlled fury. Eventually, I opt for staring blindly at the wall, unable to interact with either of them.

As soon as the shuttle lands, I make for the safety of my quarters, seeking refuge from Javik's smug superiority and Shepard's raging fury. Alone in my cabin, safe, I cannot summon the energy to even think. I do not know what to do. Aimlessly, I activate my console and stare at the data scrolling relentlessly by, report after report of losses, cities falling, people dying. My people. I failed them.

The door hisses open, and I turn, both hoping and dreading to see Shepard, but my visitor is Tali. "Liara!  _Keelah_ , are you all right?" She leans in to peer at my throat, where Leng grabbed me, seizes my hand and drags me from my quarters. "Come on, we're going to see Dr. Chakwas."

I can't even form the words to protest, following the quarian meekly across the deck to the medbay. Karin's green eyes are awash with sympathy as she helps me strip my armour and runs her omni-tool over my body. Taking my chin in her warm fingers, she tips my head back to examine the bruising on my throat. "Tch. That's going to be very uncomfortable for a while. What happened?"

"Kai Leng tried to kill me," I reply. "He was...he wanted to make Shepard angry, so he attacked me."

"I imagine that was quite effective as a tactic," Karin comments wryly as she massages a dose of medi-gel into my suddenly aching neck. "I wouldn't bet much on his life expectancy when she finally catches up to him."

"She was so angry," I whisper, tears welling in my eyes at the memory. "So very angry. I've never seen her so... so..." My throat thickens, and a sob tears from my chest. Chakwas wraps me in a gentle hug, and I cling to her for a moment.

"It's all right, Liara, you both made it back, and I'm quite sure Shepard's furious, but she'll get over it."

"She had to drive me the whole time, and I... I couldn't help, and then Leng used me to make her reckless, and she nearly fell, and..."

"You think she's angry at you?" Chakwas says in astonishment. "I don't believe that for a moment."

"I let her down. I let everyone down." The enormity of what transpired on Thessia is only now starting to weigh upon me. I was so sure we would find the answers, so sure my people, my civilisation would be kept safe from harm. Shepard and I wouldn't let it happen. And now, because of me, my weakness, my home is a burning ruin, and my people are doomed. Tearing from Karin's grasp, I charge back to my own cabin, locking my door, flinging myself down upon the bed and sobbing uncontrollably into the uncaring covers. I feel as though I might never stop.

But grief, even in its most virulent forms, is physically finite, and after I while I have no more tears to shed. Garrus' clipped, professional call to the debrief rouses me. I change my clothes and walk to the elevator, avoiding eye contact with anyone. On arriving, I stare blindly down into the projector. No one dares break the marbled silence.

When Shepard arrives, EDI reports the asari forces in full retreat, abandoning Thessia to preserve what they can. The news hits me like a blow, as does Shepard's quick, concise command that we follow suit. She still sounds incensed; I make an attempt to salve her conscience, but, typically, she does not accept it, shouldering the blame herself. Still, she does not sound despondent, and as Traynor lays out an impossibly slender lead, Shepard's voice picks up warmth, focus and confidence. The effect it has on the crew is electrifying. In another frame of mind, I would be so proud of her. Now, all I can do is wonder why she bothers.

As Shepard dismisses the team, I see Javik watching me intently, doubtless still judging me for my weakness. I ignore him, heading back to my quarters, but as I stand and stare at my monitors, watching casualty report after casualty report come in, the death toll spiralling, my grief finds a new outlet. If Javik wants to see how I react to his goading, then he should be able to enjoy it in person. A dark impulse to confront the one source of my anguish that is not beyond my reach wells within me.

I do not have much time. If I know Shepard, she will be heading my way before too much longer. Now that she has regained her own balance, she will want to try to comfort me. "Glyph, I am going to see Javik," I snap, hurrying from my cabin before I can change my mind.

I'm half-convinced Javik was waiting for me. He is standing by his water table, watching the door. The mere sight of him is enough to bring my anger boiling to the surface; my body begins to tingle as my emotions start to feed my biotics. Trembling, I stalk into the room, and he meets my glare with an indifferent roll of his eyes.

"What do you want, asari?" he demands haughtily.

I want him to take back everything he said, tell me he was lying to provoke a reaction. It's childish and stupid, but I'm so angry now I can't hold it in. "Those were all lies back there," I state, pacing across the deck.

Javik cocks his head, folds his arms across his chest. "They were not," he rebuts me coldly.

"My people weren't animals for you to experiment on!"

The Prothean sneers at me, triumph and malice glittering in his sulphurous eyes. "You wanted to know more about your history, asari. Now you do."

His continued use of my species rather than any sort of name or title, as though I am some sort of lower life form, snaps the last threads of my control. My corona lights up and I take a threatening step forward. "I have a name!" I shout. "It's  _Liara T'Soni_! And I'd appreciate you using it from now on!"

"Hey! Settle down!" Shepard's bark is her best command-deck voice, and I spin to face her as she steps into the room.

"My homeworld was just destroyed, and all he can do is  _gloat_!" I can't control the burst of dark energy from my hand as I appeal both to my lover for support and my commanding officer for judgement of my grievance. Shepard moves carefully to place herself between Javik and my rage, her expression tinged with apprehension. The sight gives me pause - does she really believe I would hurt her?

Shepard turns her head. "Given what's happened today, I think you owe Liara an apology, Javik," she says, her tone ice cold. Javik blinks at her.

"Apologize?" he protests incredulously. "For the truth?"

"For not doing more!" For a split-second I'm not even sure who's speaking, but all the the misplaced hope and faith I held in his people comes flooding out, the poison bubbling inside me drawn by Shepard's instant, obdurate support. "You're a Prothean! You were supposed to have all the answers! How could you not stop this from happening?"

Javik considers this for a moment. When he speaks, his tone is much more conciliatory. "We believed you would." I'm so shocked I lose my grip on my biotics, and my corona winks out. "Long ago, we saw the potential in your people. Even then it was obvious. The wisdom, the patience. You were the best hope for this cycle, so you were...guided, when necessary."

Stunned by hearing Shepard's oft-repeated admiration of my people in Javik's words, my anger is snuffed out, leaving me with only my grief and despondency once more. "It didn't work," I offer tiredly.

Javik snorts disdainfully. "You're still alive, aren't you? Your world may have fallen, but as long as even one asari is left standing, the fight isn't over."

And there is my opportunity to make peace. This is not Javik's fault; it is mine. I was wrong to come down here and confront him like this, I realise suddenly. I need to fix it. "I suppose that goes for Protheans too."

Javik nods in approval. "Despair is the enemy's greatest weapon. Do not let them wield it...  _Liara T'Soni_."

Tears fill my eyes. I cannot meet his gaze or Shepard's. Nodding, I turn and leave, heading back to my own quarters, my mind in a tailspin as it tries to make sense of what's happening. But one thing I am sure of as I walk. Shepard will be close behind me.

**oooooooo**

The hours drift by in a blur after Shepard helps me back to myself. I work feverishly, doing everything I can to co-ordinate and assist the escape and relocation of as many people as possible from my burning homeworld. Time ceases to matter, and so I am caught totally by surprise as Shepard suddenly reappears in my cabin, strides determinedly over to me, grabs me by the waist, and hoists me over her shoulder with a grunt. I yelp in startled outrage, drumming my fists against her back. "What are you doing?"

"Don't make me drop you," she warns as she starts walking. "Glyph, save all files and shut down."

"Of course, Commander. Have a pleasant evening."

"Rachel, put me down!" I demand. Shepard chuckles and shakes her head.

"Nope. I warned you. My quarters at nineteen hundred, or I drag you there. Quit squirming."

She carries me calmly across the busy crew deck, letting down only in the privacy of the elevator. I punch her shoulder in rebuke, but she catches my hand, uses the move to pull me close. "Dinner's ready," she murmurs as she closes in and kisses my cheek.

"You didn't have to carry me across the mess," I complain, still blushing. "What will the crew think?"

"I'm long past caring," Shepard replies as she leads me into her quarters and seats me at her hastily reconfigured desk, now serving as our dinner table. "C'mon, dig in before it gets cold."

I try to keep up my affront, but it fades as I see the effort she's gone to, a proper cooked meal, wine, and even a flower for me, a white synthetic rose laid across my plate. "Oh, Rachel, thank you. I'm famished, I admit."

"I thought you would be. You burned through a lot of biotics today."

We eat in comfortable silence, and once I've cleared the dishes into the reclamation chute I slump onto the couch. Shepard stretches out along it, resting her head in my lap to look up at me, and I gently comb my fingers through her hair. "How are you?" she asks me.

"Better, thank you. Seeing people have escaped helps. But everything we discovered today… I don't know what to feel, what to think. I'm angry, and confused, and part of me still wants to blame Javik for all of it."

"He's a dick," Shepard growls, scowling. "There's a time and a place for conversations like that, and that wasn't it. I nearly decked him at least twice. If you'd been injured because he was messing with you, I'd probably have shot him."

"I feel somewhat the same," I admit. "He does make it hard to like him." I run my fingertips along Shepard's brow, smoothing out her frown. "How are  _you_ , Rachel? You were... not yourself... down there."

Shepard closes her eyes. "Yeah," she mutters in a resigned tone. When it becomes clear she will not offer anything further, I push a little harder. Whatever is wrong, I want to be able to help her.

"I was frightened. Goddess, you were furious."

"I was," Shepard agrees, eyes still closed. "It was the only thing keeping me going forward."

"You scared me when you charged the Harvesters," I confess, reaching down to caress her cheek. "It was almost as if you stopped… being you. Like something had taken over your body. Like Leviathan with Dr. Bryson. I was screaming at you, but you didn't respond, not until they were all dead. I was sure you were going to be killed."

Shepard opens her eyes, takes a deep breath, then pushes herself up to kiss me. Sitting, she props her back against the arm of the couch, and swings her legs across my lap. "I'm sorry about that," she says quietly. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"I've never seen you so… I don't know how to describe it. If you were krogan, I'd have called it blood rage."

"That's more or less what it was," she admits. "Humans call it going berserk. I totally lost control; all I could think of was killing the enemy. Nothing else mattered, and all of my senses were geared to that goal. It's an extreme fight-or-flight reaction. It's happened to me before; I got help for it, and my training usually keeps it in check, but Chakwas thinks it's been building for a while."

"And that's why your self-control matters to you so much?" The knowledge locks into place in my mind; this is what keeps Shepard so leashed, so ironclad in her self-discipline.

"Yeah. I hate it; the aftermath, not remembering clearly what I've done, or why, is a horrible feeling. And because it comes out in combat, it usually means it gets messy. It can't be good to watch, me reduced to an animal." Shepard shivers, and I can almost feel guilt radiating from her. "I'm sorry you had to see it, Li."

"Don't be. I'm not afraid of you, I know you'd never hurt me." I offer a reassuring smile, then bite my lip as I remember my earlier fear. "I thought perhaps that... that you might have been angry at me."

Shepard's mouth drops open in shock. "What? Why... why would I be angry with you?"

"I made you take me with you, I demanded it, and then I..." I can't get the words out. "And Kai Leng..."

Shepard touches her fingertips to my lips. "No. No, no, no. Liara, sweetheart, I wasn't angry at you. God, if I said or did anything to make you think that, I'm sorry." She removes her fingers, trailing her touch across my cheek tenderly. "I was angry at just about everything else in the entire goddam universe, particularly that Illusive jackass and his pet cyborg, but not at you. Not at you. And don't you feel bad about what Leng did - you certainly don't need to..."she yawns, and winces as her jaw cracks, "feel bad because I love you." She takes my hand and presses a kiss to my knuckles. "I'm sorry you got so badly hurt today. If I could have spared you any of it, I would have." Exhaustion has finally caught up with her; her eyelids are drooping even as she speaks. Kissing her brow, I resume running my fingers through her soft, silky hair.

"I know, Rachel. I know. It's all right. Just relax. I'll be here as long as you need me."

She chuckles softly. "Where have I heard that before?" Snuggling into me, she lets out a long, soft sigh. "I need you."

And I need her. And as long as we are together, we will overcome this. Content, I let my own eyes close, and drift away.


	39. Immortal Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard

When I run through the mission brief for Ontarom, I can feel Liara's eyes on me the whole time. I know what's on her mind. She thinks she wants this, wants the chance to avenge our failure on Thessia. I know how she feels, I have my own vendetta to settle, but my gripe is with the Illusive Man and his cyborg attack dog, not the poor bloody infantry he's sent to disrupt our communications. I will kill them if they hinder me, but anger has no place in this mission save to cause us to make mistakes. So I order Vega and Garrus to suit up - I want a clean, detached sweep to clear the bastards out. No drama, no fuss. Across the room, Liara scowls at my decision, but voices no public objection.

She intercepts me as I head up to my cabin to change, following me into the lift. "Rachel, I..."

"No, Liara," I cut her off, decisively, but keeping my voice soft.

"You don't even know what I was going to ask."

"You want to be included on the shore party. The answer's no. I've made my decision."

"Would you at least share your reasoning?"

I've fucked up; her tone is cool, and her eyes reflect her hurt. I wait for the lift to stop and lead her by the hand into my cabin, turning to face her as soon as the doors close. "You're too angry, Li. You're still grieving for Thessia, and you, rightly, blame Cerberus for their hand in its fall. Your anger demands vengeance, and somewhere in the primal part of your brain, a voice is shouting that killing Cerberus goons is exactly what you need. Trust me when I tell you that it isn't. The last thing you need right now is to be put in a position where your anger can burn out of control, and make you less careful, less controlled, less compassionate."

"I can control my emotions, Shepard, I am not a child." Liara's tone is affronted.

"I didn't say you were. I'm saying that as your CO, I have a duty of care to you and your team-mates. I need to take the best possible team down. As an Alliance officer, I have a responsibility to the crew down on the relay to rescue as many of them as I can, and to keep casualties to a minimum. But most importantly, as someone who loves you, I have a duty to make sure I've done everything I can to shield you from harm. I've been where you are, Li." I close my eyes for a moment, the better to picture the memory. "You saw me on Thessia, what being angry turned me into?"

Liara nods, incomprehension causing her brow to furrow. "You called it berserk."

"Yeah. Back on Elysium, the Skyllian Blitz, when those pirate bastards were running amok, slaughtering everyone they could find, raping the girls and using little kids for target practice, I caught one of them, just before the end. I was out of ammo, I'd watched three of my close friends and a lot of other people die, and I'd had more than enough time to get really, really angry. This was before I'd had any kind of training in controlling my emotions – I'd only been in service two years, and I was still pretty green. Elysium was the first time I was really involved in a serious battle; up till then I'd done peacekeeping sweeps, the odd extraction op, one or two raids on pirate bases, and a hell of a lot of training and simulation. Anyway, this one guy, he was human, and I happened across him as he was buckling his belt back up - there was a dead girl lying beneath him with her skirt up around her waist, her throat slit, and blood everywhere. She couldn't have been more than twelve years old. I didn't have anyone left to hold me back, no one to help me, only the angry voice screaming that I could kill him and it would make me feel better." I shiver at the recollection; it's been a long time since I allowed myself to think of this, a measure of how deep my feelings for Liara run that I can openly share the most barbaric thing I have ever done. Only my mother, Anderson, and the psychologist who treated me have heard the full truth of Elysium, the shame that drives me to do better, rise above the base instincts of my nature, always count to ten before I open my mouth. I failed that day, let myself down, let my family down, let my comrades down, and it is a lesson I must never let myself forget. I step closer to Liara and slide my hands up onto her shoulders.

"I killed him. He was armed, he fought back, he could and would have killed me given the opportunity, but he never really stood a chance. I beat him to death with my rifle. He begged me to stop, toward the end, and I didn't. I was so angry, I couldn't; it took over, I completely lost control."

"Exactly like Thessia," Liara says softly.

"Right. I don't remember that, and I don't remember what I did to that guy, not blow for blow. Once it was over, once I'd calmed down, he was unrecognizable. I felt... dirty. I was no better than they were. I confessed to Anderson when he showed up commanding the relief team. He wrote it off to combat stress, but he did refer me to counselling, and it took me a long time and a lot of training to get over it. It had happened before, less severely, but that was the worst, and last time, before three days ago."

I squeeze my lover's shoulders gently. "Li, I don't want you to put yourself through something like that. These guys didn't hurt you, they aren't responsible. The Illusive Man and Kai Leng are, and we'll get them, I promise you. But meantime, I won't let you get hurt, or risk anyone's life, including yours, to satisfy your anger. So my decision is no, and if you expect anything different..."

Liara closes in and kisses me, hard. I feel her mind pushing at mine, a silent entreaty, and I open up to let her in.  _I love you,_  I whisper across our thoughts.

_I know. I'm sorry, Rachel, I didn't understand. You're right. I don't want to be driven by my anger. Thank you._

_I'd never forgive myself if I let you do this. Please, Li. Sit this one out. For me._

The connection breaks, and Liara nods. "Since you asked so nicely." She kisses my cheek softly. "Be safe. Come back to me."

"Always."

**oooooo**

Ontarom is straightforward, as I'd hoped it would be, and less than four hours after drop, we're back aboard the Normandy with Miss Sato as our guest. Leaving her in Steve's capable and charming company, I have a quick shower and change, then make my rounds, checking that there is nothing that requires my attention as we resume our run to the Citadel. We make dock just in time for dinner, and I manage to scrounge a reservation at the Alliance's O-Club on the Presidium for Liara and I.

Liara presents herself for our date in the figure-hugging white dress she wore to the Silver Coast Casino, a choice of attire that somehow manages to be virginal and decadent at the same time. I can hardly take my eyes off her, and the requirement for me to wear dress blues makes me feel distinctly unfeminine and awkard at her side. As we walk through the gardens of the Presidium, I notice how many admiring glances Liara draws, and a warm, smug flush of possessive triumph washes over me. How lucky am I that it's my girl all these people are staring at? Liara is oblivious, and somehow, that just makes it all the sweeter.

Dinner is sadly unremarkable; with supply networks under pressure ingredients are becoming hard to procure. There are too many interruptions for us to properly relax; news crews, junior officers wanting to introduce themselves, senior officers wanting to make sure I know my place. I do my best to be civil, but eventually, I elect to skip dessert in favour of the peaceful privacy of Anderson's apartment.

Liara closes in on me and unbuttons my collar. "That uniform does look very good on you," she whispers, nibbling gently at my ear.

"Not as good as that dress does on you," I counter, running my hands down her silk-sheathed curves. "You're gorgeous, Liara."

She smiles shyly as she steps out of my embrace; she still doesn't accept admiration regarding her looks easily. Compliment her intelligence or her intellect, her biotics or her combat skills and she takes it as her due; tell her she's the most beautiful woman you've ever seen, and she's all ablush and abashed. "Do you want a drink?" she asks as she glides over to the bar.

"Yeah. There's a nice bottle of red wine in the last cabinet - the Spanish one." I fetch the glasses as she retrieves the bottle, and soon we're sitting on the couch watching the Citadel evening buzz all around us. "I'm sorry about dinner," I say. "I was hoping the O-Club would be easier than a regular restaurant."

"It's all right," she assures me easily. "I had to sit on my hands when that Admiral was talking down to you, though. How can someone so senior be so oblivious to what's going on? You have the patience of a matriarch, Rachel - it was all I could do not to wrap him up in a pull field and drop him off the balcony."

"I would have paid good money to see that," I chuckle. "Next time, feel free to leap to my defence."

Liara smiles into her glass, then takes a healthy gulp of wine. "Rachel, there's something I want to ask you."

"Shoot." I lift my drink.

"Would you consider becoming my bondmate?"

Shock soaks through me; playing for time, I take a deep swallow from my own glass, trying to order my thoughts. It's been on my mind, but I didn't realise Liara had been thinking about it. I also didn't really expect to be asked quite so bluntly. "Wow, straight in for the kill, huh, T'Soni?" I joke, putting my glass down safely on the table.

"I'm serious," Liara says, quietly insistent. Twisting round to face her, I rest a hand on her thigh.

"I know you are," I reply. "It's just... in human culture, or at least, my part of human culture, these things have a rhythm to them, a build-up, an expected path." I grin, ever ready to take an opportunity to tease. "You don't just ask someone to marry you in the same way you'd ask them what their favourite drink is."

Liara frowns. "I wasn't asking you to marry me..." she bites her lip, "oh Goddess, Rachel, could you please be serious for one minute?"

I look at her more closely, and I'm surprised to read fear in her eyes. Shame pricks me as I realise how much it cost her to ask me that question; even though she must be reasonably sure of my response, there is always a worm of self-doubt. I reach out and pinch her chin gently. "Would I consider it?" I repeat.

She nods. She's holding her breath.  _God, let me not fuck this up any further_.

"Absolutely. Yes." Her sharp exhalation is loaded with relief. "Why would you even doubt it?" I lift her hand, tapping her fingers to my forehead. "You've seen in here," I move her fingers down to my heart, "and here." I hold her hand against my chest. "You know how I feel about you."

Liara nods. "I do, and you know I feel the same, but bonding is not like a human marriage. Once done, it can never truly be undone."

"But asari separate from their partners just like other species do, don't they?" I query. "And if they join with, say, a Salarian, the relationship would be over quickly no matter how dedicated."

"Many asari never bond with their partners for that reason," Liara explains. "It is a commitment that predates our contact with other species, unique to our kind. The bond places a piece of you in your bondmate, takes a piece of them into you. A partnership is two souls, a bond is one soul in two bodies. It cannot be dissolved without causing brain damage. If you bond someone, and your feelings for them change, if you end the relationship, or if they die before you, the bond still stays with you until you die." Liara bows her head. "Benezia and Aethyta were bonded. The pain of their separation haunted my mother, and I saw the same pain in my father when she spoke of my mother." Liara looks up, locks her gaze to mine, waits patiently for me to work through what she's told me.

"So, to be sure I understand this, if we were to bond, I would have a permanent connection to you in my mind. One that can't be got rid of. In the highly unlikely event that I would ever want to leave you, I would be stuck with part of you in my brain to remind me every day of what a complete fool I was to let you go?"

"Rachel..."

"Shh, Li, it's OK, I understand." I take her hands, closing my own around them. "Doesn't that mean that when I die," I tighten my grip, holding her as she tries to pull away in distress, "no, listen to me, Li - when I die, you'll be left with your bond to me, always reminding you?"

Liara inclines her head slowly. "It is the price of my falling in love," she says softly. "I am asari. Unless I choose another asari as a mate, and I dare not, being pureblood, this is a price I must pay. It is not because you are human. It is simple fact." Tears burnish her luminous blue eyes to a sparkling shine. "I know I cannot have you forever, however much I might wish it otherwise. I know that one day you will have to leave me, and... when you do, I would want to be able to keep something of you in my soul." She pulls her hands from between mine and reverses the hold, wrapping my fingers tightly in hers. "But the future is not given to us to know, Rachel. There is no guarantee that I would even outlive you. Part of how asari deal with our lifespans is to live in the now, holding fast to what is precious in the moment, and not letting the cares of an unmapped future spoil the time we have in the present."

Tears prick my own eyes at Liara's words. My understanding that I wanted a life with Liara was set in stone a while ago, long before I admitted it to her that afternoon on the Presidium before we left for Thessia. "Then, like I said, I'm absolutely, definitely considering it. In fact, I've decided. Yes, I want to be your bondmate." I steal a kiss, and Liara smiles as she scoots closer and lays her head against my shoulder. "Mmm, this is nice," I sigh, draping my arm around her slim shoulders. "So, is there some sort of ceremony or ritual associated with taking a bondmate?"

"There can be," Liara replies. "It comes down to personal taste. There are many regional customs and practices, native to different Republics, different beliefs, even different districts in some cases. You may choose to honour a local tradition, or simply perform the bonding meld at home with no one else knowing." Liara tilts her head back. "What about human marriages?"

"Wildly variable. Some people still arrange marriages, some have a great deal of ritual and ceremony, some have almost nothing apart from legally witnessed signing of documents."

"How would you imagine it? For yourself, I mean?"

I shrug. "I never really thought about it. I never got far enough along with a relationship to think about it." I press a kiss to Liara's crests. "Until now."

"And now?"

"Now I think I should give it some serious thought." I pull my arm back to begin stroking the folds on the back of my lover's neck, and she burrows closer, sighing with delight. "And so should you. We should be able to come up with some sort of ceremony that would suit."

"Or we could just..." Liara looks slyly up at the bedroom, and I chuckle.

"We  _could_ , but if I get hitched without telling my Mom, she'd never, ever forgive me. We'll do it soon." I let out a long breath. "And, if it's OK, I think I'd like to make a public commitment to you. So that everyone knows what you mean to me. And so that everyone knows you're mine."

Liara pecks at my cheek with a smile. "That's OK. I like that you're so possessive of me, Commander."

Before I can answer my omni-tool chirps, code urgent. Sighing, I hit the receive tab. "Shepard, go."

_"Commander, sorry to disturb you, this is Officer Kent Johnson at C-Sec Communications."_

"What can I do for you, Officer?"

_"There's been an incident involving a krogan, one Urdnot Grunt, and he's asked that you represent him. If you contact my colleague on patrol on the Strip this evening, he can fill you in."_

I groan. If Grunt is asking for me to bail him out, the damage must be catastrophic. "I'll head right down, Officer."

_"Thanks, Commander. C-Sec out."_

"Great," I grumble. "Just great. Sorry, babe, I guess I need to go see what this is about."

Liara gets to her feet, offers me her hand. "I'll come with you. You might not be able to afford to cover the costs."

"Ah, the not-so-subtle reminder that you're richer than God," I grin. "Which at least sets one issue about the bonding or marriage question to rest."

"That being?" Liara asks as she links arms with me.

"Who has to pay for the party." I wink at her as we start walking. "C'mon, if we get this done quickly enough, I have just about enough credits for a shot at the claw machine. Let's see if we can't win you a crappy plastic engagement ring."


	40. Hellhounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liara

Hours after our debriefing for Sanctuary, I am still unable to put the mission and the horrors we encountered from my mind. My skin still crawls at the images branded behind my eyelids, at hearing the whisper of the banshees violating the sanctity of my mind. Garrus and I, sharing a moment of empathy, elect to work off our stress in the cargo bay, sparring and running through varying asari and turian martial arts training forms. Shepard is in the medbay, holding vigil over Miranda with Oriana as Chakwas operates to stabilise the former Cerberus officer's condition. Her injuries are serious but not life-threatening, thankfully; I am not sure Shepard could stand to lose another friend right now, and she and Miranda are especially close.

Eventually, brought to a standstill by fatigue, I signal that I'm done. "No more. Goddess, I'm exhausted."

Garrus nods. "I know exactly how you feel," he rumbles. "Spirits, I've never been so tired. It's not just the combat. You can feel the weight of it, can't you? The closer we get, the higher the expectation that somehow, we'll know what to do, we'll fix it, just like we always do."

"Does it scare you, Garrus?" I ask quietly.

"It absolutely terrifies me, Liara," he admits. "Please tell me it scares you too."

"Beyond thought," I confirm.

He coughs delicately. "Of course, if you tell anyone I said that, I'll deny it strenuously." He flares his mandibles pensively. "Is Shepard holding up OK? She seems like it's getting to her."

"It's definitely getting to her. How could it not? She can't fix everything, no matter how hard she tries. She knows it, but she won't accept it and she keeps pushing herself harder and harder. It's all I can do to keep her from burning herself out, and before too much longer…" I shake my head. "This needs to end, Garrus… very soon."

"For a lot of reasons," Garrus concurs. "But we're close now."

"We are. Thanks for the workout, Garrus. I'll see you later."

I take the elevator to the loft, planning to make use of the shower and then see about dinner, but my plans are forgotten the moment I step through the door to Shepard's cabin. She is sitting on the floor beneath the empty aquarium, dressed in only her compression suit, sobbing broken-heartedly into her knees. An icy fist clenches around my heart. Goddess, no, has Miranda died? Was Karin wrong? I hurry to her side and kneel, sliding my hand against her cheek. "Rachel?"

She looks up, and I can almost feel my heart break as I see the absolute despair in her eyes. Another stuttering sob racks her, and her face is wet with tears. "Goddess, what's happened?" I ask gently. "Miranda?"

Grieved beyond words, Shepard reaches out, sliding her hands around my neck to pull my forehead to hers. Instinctively, I initiate a meld, and I'm drawn into a whirling vortex of grief and pain wholly unrecognisable as Rachel's mind. Carefully, I look for specifics, details I can draw out to aid my understanding.

_Miranda's weak, despairing plea for Shepard to save her sister, the only person she can ever claim to have loved, and the gut instinct that Henry Lawson is quite capable of pulling the trigger, and twitchy as fuck to boot. The grating, nerve-fraying shriek of the banshee, the knowledge of the threat they pose to me, the dread that I could be torn from her in such a depraved way. The gut-wrenching, sickening realisation that some of these people must have felt the same way, watching their loved ones turned slowly to thralls while waiting helplessly in line to follow them to a fate worse than death. White-hot rage at Cerberus and the Illusive Man for preying on the frightened, the innocent, and the desperate. Fear of the perverted, insidious whisper of indoctrination, ghosting through the catacombs of this charnel house, a miasma that corrupts everything it touches. And underneath it all, bone-deep exhaustion, the crushing burden of expectation, a rising sense of inevitable doom, product of too many close scrapes, too many near misses, death cheated at least ten times too many._

Goddess, Rachel is  _terrified_. Not of dying, but of failing. Of failing her own people, being outmatched by the Illusive Man's overwhelming advantages in resources and firepower. Of failing the other races, letting their civilisations fall as she feels she has already allowed the asari's to. Of watching the galaxy die, one world at a time, suffering the horror of indoctrination and slow extinction. Of growing old and beaten down, sapped of her ability and appetite to fight by time and defeat. Of failing to protect me, losing me, saving the galaxy only to be denied the only thing she really wants for herself. Even as she thinks it, panic wells up, sudden and all-consuming.

"I can't lose you, Liara," she cries out, aloud and in her thoughts, her terror magnifying rapidly as her mind treacherously plays through her nightmare scenarios; my body sprawled in the broken rubble of a battlefield; the flesh melting from my face to leave only the death's head leer of a banshee for her to put a bullet in; the light fading from my eyes as I choke out my life in her arms, drowning in my own blood; my screams as I writhe in agony, burning on a pyre with a human child in the heart of a dark forest.

 _Rachel, stop!_  I plead, but she is beyond hearing, physically and mentally.

"Please," she gasps, her voice choked with horror, " _please_ , promise me I won't lose you!"

"I promise!" I reply firmly, voice and thought, but still, she does not respond. I cannot call her back, not like this; I cannot soothe her, appeal to her rational consciousness. The moment of crisis I have feared for so long is suddenly upon us; Finally, inevitably, Rachel has reached her breaking point. Desperately I search my training, the lessons I learned years ago on helping another soul lost in their own mind. My mother's words echo down the decades, calm, benevolent, confident. " _Mind and body, two halves of the same whole._   _The mind, for the most part, commands the body, Liara, but in certain circumstances that control can be reversed. In those times where the mind cannot be called, we must look to the body to take command_."

I almost laugh as enlightenment dawns. At the time, I'd had no idea what she was trying to tell me. For years afterward, it remained a mystery, but now, I understand exactly what she meant, and I have no other options; if I call this in, Chakwas will simply sedate Shepard, and that will not solve the problem. Panic such as this can destroy someone's resolve; I cannot, will not, let that happen. Athame show mercy on my poor, beloved Rachel, even if I did not love her as I do, wanting this healed for her own sake, we cannot spare the time for a human psychiatrist to rebuild her confidence; the galaxy needs Commander Shepard now, not in six months. And I cannot bear the thought of what failing now will do to her; she would never recover, not truly. I am the only hope for her salvation, and Goddess, I am so very afraid. If I fail, I will lose her. If I fail, the galaxy is doomed. And if I succeed, all my love can expect is more pressure, more suffering, more pain. The titanic, sickening injustice of it paralyses me for a moment, and then I seize my courage.

I know what I must do. Athame grant me the strength to do it.

Diving deeper into Rachel's consciousness, beyond her thoughts, beyond her memories, I locate her emotions. Her love for me is there, resolute and unyielding, a bedrock to which I can anchor her. I concentrate, separating the feeling out into her feelings and her physical desires; the latter, rooted in animal instinct, are what I need. I begin to share my own passion, bolstering her arousal artificially, pushing memories of our lovemaking toward her, focusing on pure physical pleasure. I kiss her roughly, nipping at her lip, forcing my tongue into her mouth to taste her. Ripping off her compression suit and bra with one quick flare of my biotics, I take her breasts in my hands, squeezing them hard, hoping that rough treatment will boost her adrenaline and endorphin levels that much quicker. I am still sweaty from my workout, a scent her body should respond to. I tug her to the floor and straddle her hips, stripping my tank top and bra in the same way I disposed of her clothes. Leaning down, I let my breasts brush against hers as I growl in her ear, "I want you, Rachel." Trailing my mouth down her neck, I bite none too gently at the pulse point below her jaw. As I tear her underwear clear with a second biotic pulse, I sense Rachel's arousal igniting, lighting up as brightly as a biotic corona, derailing her higher thought processes and diverting the adrenal fuel of her panic toward scalding lust. Encouraged, I dip my fingers between her legs, caressing her sex, teasing her as I flick my tongue against her right nipple. She groans, a deep, guttural sound redolent with hunger, and her fingers rake down my back as she arches against me, her nails scratching sharp, fiery trails down my skin. Bucking her hips, she flips us over, and my back slams painfully into the deck. Shepard's mouth closes over mine, and her kiss is forceful, almost brutal, her tongue tangling frantically with mine as her desires drive her to active participation. Her hands strip me of my shorts and underwear, her kisses trail down to my breasts. "I want you too, Li," she pants thickly.

This is not quite what I'd intended; this needs to be about her, not us. My memories, our memories, of our lovemaking, where we both cherish the shared pleasure we bring one another, are guiding her to attend my pleasure rather then her own. The meld has done its work, kick-starting her desire; to attain my goal this will now need to be a purely physical endeavour. Breaking the meld before I lose the will to do so to my own spiralling need, I rack my brain desperately for something, anything, to say and do that will push her beyond restraint, and a shard of a glimpsed fantasy echoes in my memory. Rachel trusts me enough to let go of her control with me, and sometimes, she imagines what it would be like to be at my mercy, have me command her. Her excitement at my use of my biotics reinforces the idea.  _Goddess, let me not get this wrong._

Flaring my biotics, I lift her off me, shoving her hard against the fish tank. "No,  _Commander_. I'm calling the shots," I growl. "I'll decide when, or even if, you can touch me." Using a biotic grip to keep her arms pinned, though not so firmly that she cannot break out if she really wishes to, I close in and kiss her, biting her lip, pinching her left nipple with my fingers until she gasps with pleasured pain, my thigh pushed hard between her legs. I rest my chin on her shoulder and turn my mouth to her ear as I kick her legs wider apart, choosing my words with great care. "You're  _mine_ , Commander Shepard. You are at my mercy. I can do anything I wish with your body. I don't even need to touch you." I emphasize my point by using a biotic lash to lightly graze her abdomen, and her muscles clench reflexively under the stroke. "Does that excite you?"

Shepard writhes against my restraints with a low, needy moan, any semblance of self-control unravelled by my dominance.

"I see it does." I nip at her earlobe with my teeth, and she hisses. "Do you want me to fuck you, Commander Shepard?" I demand. I cringe inside as the human profanity leaves my mouth, ashamed at my own arousal being stoked by what I'm doing, chagrined at Shepard's visceral response to my twisting of our intimacy. She strains against her bonds, trying to arch her body into my touch.  _I'm sorry, my love._ "Yes? Beg for it, then."  _Please say yes. Please let me help you, and finish this._

"Yes," Shepard almost sobs. "Please, Liara."

Permission given, I don't hesitate, don't second guess my course. I slide my hand quickly between her legs, penetrating her roughly with two fingers, dragging my thumb against the bud of her sex. Shepard's head smacks back into the glass behind her. "Oh, fuck," she groans. "Li, please… don't stop." I bury my face against her neck, my cheeks flaming with equal parts shame and arousal as I build speed and rhythm, as her body jerks uncontrollably against mine, governed completely by lust. My objective is simple completion rather than sensuality. This is purely about physiology, and I am glad, as I feel Shepard's climax break over her, as she cries out in shuddering release, that we are not melded, that she cannot feel my conflicted emotions.

I release my grip, Shepard's knees give out, and we slide to the floor together in a jumble of sweaty limbs. For a long moment, all I can hear is her laboured breathing. I don't dare look, still uncomfortable with using her so coarsely, regardless of my good intentions and her evident pleasure.  _Goddess, did it work_?

"Liara?" Rachel's voice is hoarse. Steeling myself, I turn my head, and she's smiling at me, gratitude and exhaustion in her eyes. "Thank you," she whispers.

"I'm sorry," I whisper in reply, "I…" Rachel presses her fingers to my kiss-stung lips.

"Don't you apologise," she says firmly. "I needed you to catch me, and you did. Don't you ever apologise for that." She extricates herself from our entanglement, then gets up, taking a slow, deep breath, and offers me her hand.

I accept, letting her pull me to my feet. "Is Miranda all right?" I ask anxiously as she leads me to the bed.

"Yeah, Chakwas says she'll be fine with some rest." Shepard sits down on the bed and pulls me to stand in front of her, resting her forehead against my belly, her hands on my hips. She places a gentle kiss just below my navel, then looks up at me, and I see naked adoration in her eyes. "You are incredible, Liara, have I taken the time to tell you that lately?"

I climb onto her lap, straddling her thighs and settling myself with my forearms resting on her shoulders. "I'm not sure I deserve to hear it," I reply guiltily, running my fingers up her neck and into her hair.

Shepard puts her thumb on my chin and tilts my head down so that I meet her gaze. "What is it?" she asks gently.

"What I did... I had to, but...it made me uncomfortable. It felt... abusive. You weren't yourself, and I… I was trying to help, but it felt like taking advantage."

Rachel smiles slightly, and nips softly at my lower lip. "So no chance you'll tie me up with your biotics again? Damn." She pulls me closer, enfolding me in a tender embrace, stroking my back soothingly. "Sweetheart, it's OK. I know it's not what you're accustomed to, and that's certainly not the way I'd have wanted to introduce you to that particular fantasy." She squeezes me. "If I hadn't wanted you to do it, I would have stopped you. If I'd said no, what would you have done?"

"I wouldn't have... I'd have stopped."

"That's all you need to know, then. I trust you, you know that. I need you to feel able to help me when I can't help myself. And I asked you to go ahead. Nothing happened here against my will. I wanted you to take me." She drops a light kiss on my cheek. "It's OK," she says again. "And you were hotter than hell, so maybe sometime we could explore it a bit more, because I really,  _really_ enjoyed it."

I hug her tightly, relieved, and my desire for her reasserts itself. "Rachel, please… make love with me?"

Rachel grins, and lowers me carefully to the bed, bestowing a worshipful kiss upon my breast as she does so. Her mouth trails lower, kisses meandering down my belly as her hand nudges my legs apart, and her eyes are sparkling with wicked intent as she settles between my legs. My nerves hum in thrilled anticipation as she places a kiss...

* * *

 

"Liara?"

" _Rachel!_ " I jerk bolt upright in bed, panting, arousal throbbing through my system, a snap discharge of biotic energy lighting up the room.

"Shit!" Ashley Williams pulls her hand from my shoulder, looking momentarily terrified. "Jesus, I'm sorry, Liara, I didn't mean to scare you."

"Ash?" I blink blearily, trying to focus while my body howls in frustration and my still-half-dreaming brain shrieks that  _this is the wrong human_. "I... Goddess, is something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong," Ash soothes immediately. "I'm really sorry to wake you but I need your help with something."

I drag in a deep breath, willing my pulse to settle. "Of course, what do you need?"

"The comm system's picking up some garbled transmissions. Traynor's just gone to her bunk after pulling a twenty-hour stint, and we don't have EDI to clean up the signal. If we leave it we might miss a chance to make contact with someone. Would you mind taking a look?"

The news chases the last vestiges of sleep and lust from my brain and I roll out of Shepard's bed. Ashley flushes bright crimson and spins around to face the wall. I'm confused for a moment, and then I remember that humans have all manner of hang-ups around nudity, most of which I have patiently ground away in Rachel's case. "Goddess, Ash, I'm sorry, I forgot you are not used to seeing me undressed."  _And all aroused and sexy_ , Shepard whispers in my mind.

 _That's not helpful, Shepard_ , I think back, grimacing.

"Yeah, right," the Spectre mutters, staring resolutely at the wall. I dress quickly, ignoring Shepard's whispered plea to take the opportunity to torment Ash even more. We head to the comm room, Ash's colour slowly returning to normal as we cross the command deck.

The signal we are picking up proves to be nothing useful, a refracted fragment of an old high-frequency transmission pre-dating current comm tech by about a century. Ash groans in frustration. "Ah, shit. Sorry, Liara, I woke you up for nothing."

"It's not a problem, Ash," I reply. "Like you said, it could have been a chance. It could have been..." I catch myself on the end of a sentence charged with possibilities and, most likely, false hopes.

"It could have," Ash agrees, then she lets out a soft snort of sardonic laughter. "I was half-expecting it to be Shepard, saying 'Hey, LC, we're in orbit with a rescue crew. What the fuck have you done to my ship? I leave you in charge for five minutes and you broke her?'"

 _You're damn right I would_ , Shepard mutters.  _For sure this is the last time I leave Williams in charge. You didn't crash her when I left you in command._

"And I'd be so mad at her and so happy at the same time." Ash sighs as she turns away from the QEC. "Somehow, my brain just can't accept that she's gone, y'know?"

I do. I nod agreement and pat Ash companionably on the shoulder, leaving the Spectre to her own thoughts as I return to bed, return to my dreams. I hope to recapture my previous thread, but time slips away from me, treacherous and fickle, to the morning of our final assault on Cerberus five days later...

* * *

 

I wake to find Shepard sitting up, rubbing her hands over her face. She looks tired. "You can't sleep?"

She shrugs. "We're almost there."

"Already?"

A sigh, a nod. "I hope everyone is ready."

"You don't need to worry about that," I assure her. "You rallied who you could. The Reapers won't get any more chances to divide us. This time, the galaxy follows  _our_  lead."

"There will be casualties," Shepard murmurs morosely. "I just wonder how many."

"You're not alone in this fight now, Shepard." I kiss her shoulder. "Take strength from that."

Rachel leans in and kisses me. "Thanks, Liara."

"My pleasure."

In the shuttle bay, suiting up for the mission to take down Cerberus, Shepard radiates purpose and energy as she straps up her armour and selects her weapons. She is always constructive in her prep, but today, it's more than that. "You look determined," I remark as I begin checking her armour is secure, while she reciprocates with mine.

"I am," she replies, fingers deftly tightening a latch on my arm guard. "The key to putting a stop to this war is on that station. I'm going to go on over there and get it, and God have mercy on any poor bastard who tries to stop me."

I bang my fists down on her shoulder guards, testing the straps are tight enough, and she barely flinches under the impact. "You know that Kai Leng will most likely be waiting for you."

"I'm counting on it," she agrees. I brace myself, but my knees still buckle and I grunt as Shepard's fists hammer into my shoulders; Miranda's reconstruction added a great deal of extra power to Rachel's already-honed musculature, and occasionally, she forgets. "Sorry," she mutters sheepishly.

"That's all right – at least now I know nothing short of a crowbar can dislodge my armour," I quip, tracing her jawline with my fingertips. "Are you all right?" I murmur, pitched for her ears alone.

She holds my gaze for a long moment, then a faint, lopsided smile quirks her lips and she winks. "Yeah. Just feeling the weight of it all a bit this morning. I'm fine, babe. And you're all set."

Nodding, I complete my inspection. "You too," I confirm, delivering a firm slap to her taut backside.

"Hey, if you two are quite done with the booty call," Ash complains with a theatrical eye-roll as we head to the shuttle. Shepard grins at her insouciantly as she hauls me up into the shuttle.

"Jealousy'll get you nowhere, LC." She heads into the front compartment to sit with Steve, while Ash, Garrus, EDI and I take seats in the rear. I am pleased to see Shepard joking – last night and our final three-day R and R at the Citadel, including the mother of all parties, have repaired much of the damage done on Sanctuary. Taking my seat, I focus on some exercises that will calm my mind and open the conduits to my biotics to their fullest potential. Today, I will be at my best. Today, I will have a reckoning for Thessia. I am ready for whatever comes now, from Cerberus on to the end.

**ooooo**

Cerberus, for all its purported might, dies quickly, abandoned by its master to a brief but furious struggle. Hackett's assault is thorough and decisive, and our own path through the ranks of the enemy is made considerably easier by EDI's quick expertise with hacking and cyber-warfare. The heavier firepower brought to bear by using a five-man squad allows us to quickly penetrate to the heart of the station, and before thirty minutes have elapsed the death knell of the Illusive Man's imperial ambitions is wrought in the crunch of Shepard's omni-blade driving through Kai Leng's armour and into his rotten heart.

"That's for Thane, you son of a bitch!" Shepard snarls as she twists her omni-blade in the assassin's chest.

 _And for Thessia_ , I add mentally, watching the Cerberus operative's face contort into a rictus of agony that freezes as he dies. Suddenly boneless, he collapses like an unstrung puppet, sliding wetly from the omni-blade to fold up on the cracked floor panels. Shepard looks down at him for a moment, then turns back to me. "That's it then. Do we have what we need?"

I nod, holding up the data drive containing Vendetta's program. "We do."

Shepard straightens, and blows out a long breath, looking Garrus, Ash, EDI and I in the eyes, one after another. "Then we're ready to kick the Reapers the hell out of our galaxy. Let's go get it done."


	41. And Hell Followed With Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard

London. A city that once ruled an Empire spanning three-quarters of the Earth. Now little more than a mass graveyard for the Reaper's victims, one of hundreds of ancient and storied cities across my homeworld to suffer this fate.

Half of Hammer's gone already, shot down on approach, and as I wave Steve off, I murmur a quick wish for his well being. It has to be quick; as soon as the hatch cycles closed, the area is flooded with Cannibals and Marauders. "Cover!" I yell, and Liara and Ash quickly comply, huddling with me behind a low ornamental wall.

"Fuck, that's a lot of Cannibals," Ash grunts.

"I hear ya." I risk a quick look over the top. "Couple of frag grenades ought to make a mess. They're pretty bunched up. Liara, think you can corral them?"

Liara peeks carefully round the corner, then nods. "Just about. You might need to pick a few stragglers off."

"Good enough. On three?"

At my count, Ash and I toss our grenades, rolling them into the pack of cannibals. Liara waits three more seconds, then drops a barrier dome around the enemy cannon fodder. The grenades detonate with a muffled crump, the blast contained within Liara's energy field, ripping the entire platoon to shreds.

"Beautiful," Ash grins. "How did we not figure that one out earlier?"

"I only do my best work under pressure. C'mon, while the coast is clear."

Our path does not remain clear for long, but after the creative resistance put up by even basic Cerberus assault troopers, Reaper thralls present little difficulty other than the ability to source thermal clips. We make good time to the FOB, although our triumph is dented by hearing Cortez taken down by a Harvester.

A sense of peaceful finality settles over me as I walk through the outpost, chatting to my crewmates as I encounter them. I try to tell myself I'm not saying goodbye, but I know the stakes, I know the risks.

Liara's waiting for me just outside Anderson's command post. As soon as she sees me, she's moving, and so she's in a position to catch me as I stumble, fatigue making me momentarily clumsy. I lean against her gratefully, too tired to pretend. "Goddess, you're exhausted," she chides, reading my intent to head to Anderson and get this game on. "We can wait an hour, surely?"

"I'm so tired you wouldn't believe," I confess, shaking my head. "But the longer we wait, the worse our chances. This is it. We go now, or we don't get this done." I snort derisively. "You're never ready. Never fit. The most important moments of your life are always when you're so damn tired or hurt that you'd give anything to just make it stop." I reach out to grip Liara's hands. "How are you holding up, Li?"

"This is it, isn't it?"

"Yeah," I nod. "This is it."

She tries to be brave, but I can sense she's close to breaking down, so when she offers me a gift, even though my first instinct is to tell her she's given me more than enough, even though I don't want to believe this might really be farewell, I accept. She explains the gift, and as she does, a memory nudges me:  _"you can simply perform the bonding meld at home with no one knowing."_ I wonder briefly why she's not asking outright, presenting it so obliquely, but honestly, if this is what she wants, if this will help her through whatever lies beyond the next few hours, if this grants her a life beyond today without regret, I'm happy to do this. I don't plan on dying here, but if I do, Liara will be the one who has to live with the consequences of her offer. And if I don't, well, to be Liara's bondmate is something I want wholeheartedly. It is important now, at the end of this long twilight struggle, that there be nothing left incomplete between us, no rushing past words or actions that will take a second to speak and an eternity to regret the absence of. But Liara has nothing more to say, and she steps in close, resting her hand against my face. "Close your eyes," she murmurs.

I obey, relaxing my mind, and I feel her mind envelope mine. For a moment I sense a terrible fear, stitched through with desperation, panic and guilt, and then she shuts it away and her love flares through my perceptions, flooding me with warmth and peace. The world around us drops away into blackness, and Liara is standing before me. Stars scatter across the dark like diamonds spilled across black velvet, and in the distance, a white line slowly evolves into a horizon and begins to expand, a sun going supernova in the far distance.

Liara's watching me, and she's never looked more beautiful. I take her in my arms and kiss her, driven by pure impulse, as the white light washes over us. A thousand thousand images flicker in my mind, a life seen through Liara's eyes, interwoven with an abiding sense of wonder and a deep and enduring love. And then, quite suddenly, it's gone, and I'm back in London with Liara in my arms.

I can feel her in my mind, even though we're no longer melded. Liara clings to me a moment more. "Thank you. For everything," she whispers cryptically. As she stares into my eyes, her breath catches, then she's kissing me once more, a desperate, feral kiss that sends a shiver rippling right through me as she bites at my lower lip. Crushing her against me, I deepen the kiss until my vision whites out, and I have to let her go. Breathless, I can only nod agreement as she speaks for me. "I love you. Now let's do what has to be done."

I'm glad she's in charge.

Anderson's plan is straightforward, a classic divide and conquer. Major Coates has mapped the terrain to everyone's omni-tools, and we are locked and loaded. Anderson nods to me, ceding me the floor. I look around at my friends, and it takes me a moment to work the lump out of my throat. "This war has brought us pain, and suffering, and loss. But it's also brought us together, as soldiers, allies, friends." I turn as I'm speaking, looking each one of them in the eyes. "This bond that ties us together is something the Reapers will never understand. It's more powerful than any weapon, stronger than any ship. It can't be taken, or destroyed." I can feel Liara's gaze on me, intent and devoted.

"The next few hours will decide the fate of everyone in the galaxy. Every mother, every son, every unborn child. They're trusting you, depending on you to win them their future. A future free from the threat of the Reapers." I climb up a pile of broken rubble to stand by the ruined wall, gesturing out over the shattered city. "Take heart. Look around you, at your friends. There isn't one of you I don't trust with my life, there isn't one of you I wouldn't give my life for. I'm proud to be counted your comrade, your friend..." I nod to Liara, "your lover. The galaxy's trust has been hard-earned, but it is well placed. You are the right people, in the right place, at the right time, and you're not in this fight alone. We face our enemy together, and together, we will defeat them. Good hunting."

Stepping down, I take one last look around the crew, and make my choices. "Commander Williams, care to dance?"

Ash snaps to and salutes, her eyes shining. "Yes ma'am!"

My other choice is a foregone conclusion. Weak and foolish it may be, but I want Liara where I can protect her. I can trust no one else with her life, and I'm pretty sure she wouldn't let me leave her behind anyway. "Liara, are you up for a fight?"

"I believe I have one in me, Shepard," she replies confidently.

"Good. Garrus, you have command of the Normandy. Get the others back there and standby for orders."

Garrus nods, clasps my hand briefly, then ushers the others away. Javik breaks ranks, hurrying over to me.

"Commander, I will  _not_  retreat to the ship when there are Reapers to fight. I must fulfil my duty."

I nod reluctantly. However precious Javik may be as the last of his race, I will not deny him the right to live and die as he chooses. "As you wish. Major Coates, you got room on one of your squads for Vengeance?"

Coates nods. "Always."

Javik smiles, one of his rare, genuine smiles. "Thank you, Commander Shepard. It has been my honour."

I draw myself up and salute him. "The honour was mine, Commander Javik. Avenge the Protheans, my friend."

Javik inclines his head. "I shall. And you, Liara T'Soni. Remember your courage. You will do well." Then the last Prothean turns and walks away. I exchange a perplexed shrug with Liara, then turn to Anderson.

"Well, Anderson, we're ready. Let's do this."

**ooooo**

Three hours later, bloodied but unbowed, we assemble at the top of the low rise leading down to the beam, Anderson, Ash, Liara, myself, and two dozen or so marines comprising the remainder of the strike force. As we study the terrain, there's a sudden shift in the shadows behind it, and a Reaper destroyer settles out of the murky sky. Not just any Reaper, either. It's my old pal, Harbinger. Narrowing my eyes, I pop my spent thermal clip, and reload. "Not today, motherfucker," I growl. "You don't get to stop me today. You couldn't do it before, and you haven't got any better a chance this time. Come on, you pompous, arrogant, overbearing clockwork son-of-a-bitch; let's see what you've got."

"You got a plan to go with that trash talk, marine?" Ash asks wryly as she steps to my side.

"Yup."

"Feel like sharing?"

I point at the beam. "Run. Fast."

Ash nods. "I like it. Easy to remember." Grinning, she slaps me on the shoulder. "Let's do our job and go home, Skipper."

"Copy that, LC." I kiss Liara for luck, don my helmet and turn back to Ash. "Let's finish this."

Ash waves for attention. "Oo-rah, Marines!" she bellows. I grab her shoulders and duck my chin, and our helmets clatter together in a rousing headbutt as Ash's cry echoes from a hundred throats.

"Oo-rah!"

Anderson grins, and nods.

I raise my fist, then yank my arm down sharply. "Marines! Move out!"


	42. Epitaphs of the Great War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liara

The crew of the Normandy gathers by the memorial wall. Ash, having spoken to most of the crew, has consented to hold a brief ceremony to add Rachel's name to the list of the fallen who have given their lives in this war. It's been a month since we crashed, and my friends and comrades have decided that they must try to begin the process of moving on, letting Shepard become part of their past once more. I am torn about whether to even attend. On the one hand, I must face the reality that the crew believe her gone. On the other, the idea of giving up on Rachel feels like treachery. I don't know if I am ready to do it. I don't know that I will ever be.

But in the end, I gather at the memorial wall with my comrades, barely listening as the crew take their turns to speak their piece. My mind is elsewhere, remembering my final conversations with my love.

_Shepard staggers suddenly, drunkenly, catching herself with one outflung hand against the shattered wall. I step beside her, wrapping one arm around her waist, and she leans on me without complaint. "Thanks, Li."_

_"Goddess, you're exhausted," I rebuke her. "We can wait an hour, surely."_

_She shakes her head. "I'm so tired you wouldn't believe. But the longer we wait, the worse our chances. This is it. We go now, or we don't get this done." She chuckles, bitterly amused. "You're never ready. Never fit. The most important moments of your life are always when you're so damn tired or hurt that you'd give anything to just make it stop." She takes my hands. "How are you holding up, Li?"_

_"This is it, isn't it?" I whisper._

_"Yeah," Shepard nods a simple agreement. "This is it."_

_"I don't know what to say," I admit. Our old, stupid joke springs to mind as a distraction, and I grasp at it. "All those little blue children will be disappointed I didn't have a speech."_

_Shepard chuckles softly. "We'll make up a good story for them."_

_She's standing in the lee of a gaping hole in the ruined wall of the building, and as I turn to her, Earth's moon emerges from behind a cloud. Shepard glows, her white armour reflecting the bright light, suddenly every inch the hero of legend. Then, just as quickly, the light fades, and she almost disappears into the dimness._

_My heart seizes in my chest at the visual prophecy. I don't want to lose her. I can't, not again. Something is going to go wrong, I can sense it. She will not return from this mission, I am suddenly convinced._

_Panic grips me, chill and unreasoning, and I hear myself speak even though I'm still not sure when or how I made the decision. "I do have something for you, Shepard. A gift. It'll only take a moment, if you want it."_

_"What kind of gift?"_

_"Do you remember when I first joined my consciousness to yours?"_

_"Properly?" Shepard smirks. "Hell, yeah."_

_"I can show you some of my own memories. Asari exchange them sometimes, with good friends… or…bondmates." A tiny, rational part of me is screaming at me to stop, but in my panic, I can't make myself ask her outright; I am terrified that admitting to my fears, speaking of her death will shepherd its certainty. Rachel will say yes, I know she will, and Goddess forgive me, I will use that. I will not be parted from her again; I will not be left with nothing of her, this time. Tears sting my eyes as I complete my plea. "It can also be a way to say farewell."_

_Shepard tilts my head up to meet my gaze, thinking for a long moment before she nods. "Show me," she accedes._

_I rest my hand against her cheek. "Close your eyes," I instruct, reaching for her mind. We slide together, lock and key, a single consciousness shared in two souls. Pushing deeper, I call to mind the image of a starfield, the endless depths of space – for this to work, I need imagery that we can both relate to._

_A horizon of pure white light splits the starfield. Rachel turns to watch it growing for a moment, then takes me in her arms, and as the white light swallows us both, we kiss, irrevocably sealing the connection between our souls. Rachel's life flashes through my mind in mere seconds, shot through with powerful, all-encompassing, fiercely protective love. The images fade, and we're back in London, holding each other. I can feel her, in my mind, even though the meld is gone. We are bonded, and now not even death can separate us entirely. "Thank you," I whisper. "For everything."_

_Looking into her eyes, I can see how close she is to the end of her strength. I want to tell her to rest again, but I know that to question her further will sap what little reserves she has left; to bolster her will almost certainly speed her towards her death. In these last hours, where we cannot be certain of anything, I will not deprive her of one iota of her essential being; I love her, and I have the means to help her achieve the impossible, one more time. Stepping in, I kiss her roughly, desperately, biting at her lip, seeking to arouse and energize rather than reassure. "I love you," I gasp as we end the kiss to continue breathing. "Now, let's do what needs to be done."_

Tali nudges me discreetly in the ribs to snap me out of my trance. Numbly, I accept the cold weight of the plaque from Ash. Rachel's name stands out starkly, and I trace the letters before turning the plate over. Unsurprisingly, Ash has had the reverse of the plate inscribed with some lines of human poetry, and the aptness of the quotation starts my tears flowing:

_"I was a shepherd to fools._

_Causelessly bold or afraid_

_They would not abide by my rules_

_Yet they escaped. For I stayed."_

She stayed.

* * *

 

_The Normandy lands in a cyclone, dust and debris whipped into a sandblaster frenzy as the cargo door lowers. Vega waits within, rifle sweeping the area with covering fire as Shepard marshals Ash and I up the ramp. "Here, take her," she shouts, pushing me gently towards Ash._

_"Shepard…"_

_"You gotta get out of here," she instructs quickly. She does not follow, and I turn to see her reloading her rifle._

_"I'm all right, Shepard," I protest, trying to turn back._

_She shakes her head, short and violent. "Don't argue with me, Liara. You can't walk, you need treatment."_

_"You're…_ not _… leaving me… behind!" I grind out stubbornly, trying to free myself from Ash's hold._ Not again. Rachel, please, don't leave me like this again!

_"Ash, you keep my ship and my people safe, you hear me?" Shepard bawls at her fellow Marine, and Williams nods once._

_"Rachel…" I start to protest, but she silences me by jumping up onto the ramp and pressing her lips to mine, far, far too briefly. Then she's backing away. Her gaze is haunted, tears cutting tracks through the dirt and grime the push to the conduit has kicked up. She knows what she is about to do, knows that she is about to break her promise to me. And I know that nothing I can say will stop her from doing so._

_"No matter what happens," she chokes out, "you mean everything to me, Liara. You always will."_

_"No! Shepard, I…" I reach for her, but she steps back, shaking her head, beginning to turn away. "Rachel, I'm yours!" I scream after her. The only way I will not lose her is if I stay with her. "Rachel, please…" Ash's arm tightens around my waist, and the human holds me securely as the hatch begins to close. I try to break free, struggling, even kicking, but the movement shifts my weight to my broken leg. Agony washes through me, and I collapse to the deck with a scream of rage and pain, dragging Ash with me. I stare after Rachel for as long as I can, watching her running, until the cargo door booms shut with a thunderous knell that portends doom. The strength goes out of my body, my vision reels. Pain floods every synapse, and I scream one last time as I plunge into darkness._

_I wake up sobbing, alone in the dark, my pillow wet with tears shed while I slept. By the time I regained consciousness the Normandy had crashed, flung from her relay jump by a wall of red energy. I huddle in Shepard's bed with my back to the world, incensed that our friends had not even tried to wait, tried to find Shepard, incensed that Chakwas had kept me sedated, denied me a choice. Furious with Rachel for leaving me. "You promised!" I rail brokenly at the empty cabin. "Rachel Shepard, you promised me!" Indifferent silence is the only response._

I know I said I would accept whatever time I had with her, but I was lying to myself and everyone else. Goddess, I want her beside me for my entire life. Every last second. I have no wish to face the centuries that remain to me without her. Last night, in her quarters, she was there as I suffered through another trough of doubt.

_"I can't do this!" I wail, a full, wrenching sob racking my body. "Goddess, look at me! I'm hallucinating, imagining you're here, and it's so lifelike that every time I wake and you're gone, it's like the first moment all over again! Every time I see you, I am bereaved again! I can't keep doing this, Shepard. Rachel. I am not strong enough to bear your loss afresh every day."_

_"You are," she soothes, fingers caressing the folds at the back of my neck. "Of course you are. Don't ever doubt you have the strength to overcome this. I believe in you." She kisses me, a deep, slow, kiss that owns nothing of passion, but is comfort and security rendered tactile. "Goddess, I miss you so much," I whisper brokenly. "I want you back. I want you back."_

I want her back.

That is all there is to it. Goddess forgive me, I cannot place this plaque upon this wall. Not yet. Not until we know for certain. Determination fills me as I stare at the wall before me. I will not give up on all my dreams so easily. Logic be damned, reason be damned, until we reach Earth I will not let go. Letting the warmed metal fall from my fingers I shake my head. "No," I hear myself say. "I can't do this. Not yet. Not yet."

"Liara," Garrus begins cautiously, "you…"

"Don't, Garrus," I cut him off. "I'll decide in my own time when I have no more hope, and that time is not now." I swing around to regard my friends, oblivious to the stares of the rest of the crew. "She died and it didn't noticeably slow her down." I point to Garrus, then let my finger travel as I turn to face each of them individually. Chakwas. "I've seen Shepard do the seemingly impossible on many occasions." Ash. "Somehow, my brain just can't accept that she's gone." Tali. "She did what we believed could not be done." Sam. "How can someone like that just be dead?" James. "We'll get back to find Lola sitting on a dead Reaper's corpse." Joker. "She's too stubborn to just roll over and die." I look them all in the eye, one by one. "Don't tell me you all really believe she's dead. Don't tell me you aren't all harbouring the same faith, the same hope, that somehow, the woman we all love is still alive, still fighting, still waiting for us? Yes, I fully understand that she may be dead, and if that is the case, there will be no words that can express my pain, but until I am sure, Athame have mercy on me, I will not give up. I am ready to find out what became of the Crucible, what became of the Reapers, and what happened to my bondmate. Are you ready to come with me?"

Ash snaps to attention, and offers me a razor-edged salute. "I'm with ya, Liara."

Garrus grins. "Just like old times – I guess you picked up Shepard's knack for stirring speeches in one of those melds, huh? Let's go find her sorry ass."

Tali simply nods emphatically.

James raises a clenched fist. "Loco, Blue. Totally loco. I'm in."

Sam nods. "Me too. Bloody hell, Liara, I hope Shepard realises just how lucky she is to have you."

Joker gives me a thumbs up. "Count me in. God knows, you poor bastards will need me."

Chakwas smiles. "No matter what transpires, I know Shepard would be so very proud of you, Liara. The least you deserve is to get to hear it from her in person."

"All right, then. Let's get our ship ready to take us home."

Ash turns to face the assembled crew. "You heard the lady, people. Let's get this bird in the air!"


	43. An End, Once and For All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard

White light swallows everything, followed by darkest night.

It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust. I'm in a dark corridor, sullen red lighting providing barely enough illumination to see. The whole place reeks of blood and burned flesh, and in the darkness I can hear the scuttling and chittering of the Keepers at work. Not a sound I ever thought I'd think of as sinister. I'm in bad shape; my shoulder is out, most of my armour has burned off along with patches of skin on my arms, and every joint and muscle in my body is screaming at me. I'm bleeding from a puncture wound to my abdomen, my head is pulsing with the mother of all headaches, and my heartbeat is thudding in my ears. I'm overwhelmingly tired; fuck, I just want to lie down and sleep.

"Keep going," Liara encourages me, ducking under my good arm to support me.

"Wait, this is wrong. You weren't here. I... I left you behind." Shame grips me, and I stop. "I left you. I was selfish. I wanted to know you were safe, that you'd survive. God, when I saw you lying there, for a moment I thought…" I remember the overwhelming panic, the desperate, shrill fear that I'd failed her, I'd failed to protect the most important person in my universe.

"I know, Rachel. It's OK. I can only extrapolate what she might actually have felt about it, but she would have understood."

Given Liara's actual reaction, I'm not so sure, but I don't argue. "I couldn't have carried on if I'd known you were in danger. I'm sorry."

"Nothing for you to be sorry for," Liara assures me as she fades away. "Now, let's go. I'm with you."

I limp painfully along the corridor, trying not to heave up my stomach at the smell. I'm glad I can't see what I'm stepping in. Gritting my teeth, I make my way to the first platform, where I can see Anderson hunched over the console. I can't figure out what he's waiting for as I hobble toward him. "Anderson?"

He turns around, his movement jerky and unnatural, muscles cording in his neck as he strains to speak. "Shepard..." he gasps, "I can't..."

"I underestimated you, Shepard." Jack Harper walks past me and into view, although, on closer inspection, he doesn't much look like Jack Harper any more. His decision to volunteer for his own experiment has branded him, and he looks more like a tool of the Reapers than ever. But his twisted pursuit of the power of indoctrination has paid off; even as I start to think about making a move to neutralise the threat he poses, cramp seizes what feels like every muscle in my body, immobilizing me. Whispers begin to permeate my awareness, insinuating that I will do as I am told.

"What have you..." My tongue feels like lead.

Harper looks at me contemptuously. "I warned you. Control is the means to survival. Control of the Reapers... and you, if necessary."

Anderson groans. "They're... controlling you!"

Harper snorts. "I don't think so, Admiral."

As Harper talks, I push back against the force that's trapping me as hard as I can. I can see Anderson fighting it too, but it's futile, and to my horror I see my arm begin to move, drawing my sidearm and pointing it at my lifelong friend and mentor. "Look at what I can do!" Harper gloats, dark purple energy flaring around his fist.

Gritting my teeth, I battle against the inevitable, and the look in Anderson's eyes as the pistol rises is one of compassion and absolution. 

_Lord, forgive your daughter, she knows not what she does._

The shot is deafening in the Citadel's profound silence; my cry of denial echoes round the cavernous chamber as Anderson staggers under the impact, held upright only by the chains of the Illusive Man's sordid power.

My only hope of getting him help, my only hope of stopping the Illusive Man is to get him to let me go, somehow. Pushing down my grief, I try again, pleading with him to recognize the Reapers' control over him, my last conversation with Saren resonating in my memory. Saren was strong enough, brave enough to break free, but Jack Harper, consumed with blind ambition, is too willing a tool to the Reapers' purpose, too wedded to his iron conviction that he knows better than anyone, too in love with his own intellect to listen to anything but the siren's call of power in his mind. As he forces Anderson to his knees, levels a pistol at the Admiral's back, I can see the future being mapped. This arrogant, bigoted, selfish asshole will either allow the galaxy to be decimated, or set himself up as a conqueror more terrible than even the Reapers. He will kill millions, if I can't stop him, and he will start with those most likely to oppose him. When he's done with Anderson and I, he will hunt down and kill Liara.

 _No way in hell, you smug, self-satisfied son-of-a-bitch_. Rage wells in my chest, the deep primordial fury of a wounded predator, and the force of it is enough to bend the bars imprisoning my free will. Jerking my pistol up, I plant three shots right in the bastard's ten ring. Harper folds around the shots and slumps silently to the floor, and I drop to my knees as his compulsion fades. Grimacing, I push myself to stand, and stagger over to the console, activating the docking procedure, then collapse to the deck at Anderson's side. Reaching out, I take his hand, and he squeezes my fingers weakly. "Rachel?"

"We did it," I assure him.

He smiles faintly. "Yes. We did. It's, ah... quite a view."

I look out with him, down at Earth glowing sapphire blue below us. "Yeah. Best seats in the house."

Anderson sighs. "God... it feels like years since I just... sat down."

I chuckle weakly. "I think you earned a rest." He doesn't respond, and I squeeze his hand. "Anderson?"

"Mmm?"

"Stay with me. We're almost through this."

"You did good, Rachel," he says tiredly. "You did good. I'm proud... of you."

"Thank you, sir." I look round at him, watching in helpless anguish as his gaze fixes on something very far away, and his head tips down to rest his chin on his chest.  _Oh, no..._

"Anderson?"

He doesn't reply. Tears slip down my cheeks, stinging my raw, blistered skin, as I reach out and brush his eyes closed, then press a kiss to his forehead. "Sleep well, old man. I love you."

I slump back, all my energy gone. If I can hang on, conserve my energy until after this thing goes off, assuming it works without destroying the Citadel, maybe I can radio for pickup. The Normandy can come and get me, and Liara will be there to hold me as Chakwas puts me under. That'd be nice. I just need to shut my eyes for a minute, and...

"Shepard? Commander?"

Hackett. Shit, something's wrong.  _Really, God? I can't catch just one break?_  "Uh,...I..."  _ah, fuck_ , "what do you need me to do?"

"Nothing's happening," Hackett sounds as if he's on the edge of panic. I try to get to my feet and fall down again, tearing my abdominal wound open further. Pain floods me. "The Crucible isn't firing," Hackett continues, implacable in his ignorance. "It's got to be something on your end."

 _You fucking idiot, Shepard, could you not even push the right fucking button_? Maybe I should have brought Liara with me after all. Crawling to the console, I try to focus, but my vision's starting to go, and the pain is becoming overwhelming.

"Commander?" _Christ, Hackett, give me a minute, would you?_ I don't see anything on the interface. It's not clear. Nothing's clear, and it's all getting very far away.

"I don't see... I'm not sure how to..." My strength gives out, I hit the floor, and the last thing I hear is Hackett.

"Commander? Commander Shepard!"

**ooooo**

"Wake up."

Blinking to clear my vision, I open my eyes. I don't recognise where I am, yet another secret hidden within the Citadel, standing over me is a hologram, wrought in the image of the little boy I saw die on Earth the day the Reapers landed, a lifetime ago. I'm too tired, too pained to really take in what it's telling me, but it confirms Leviathan's explanation, confirms that the Crucible has the power to destroy the Reapers, but also to control them, or synthesize all life into a hybrid form. And then, with the chill indifference of a system driven by logic, it hands the decision to me.

"The paths are open, but you have to choose."

I'm so tired. All I want to do is lie down and sleep. But I have to do this one last thing. Make this choice. Decide the fate of the galaxy, right here, right now. Sure, no fucking problem.  _C'mon, Shep, let's get it done._  So…

Control? If I allow the Reapers to survive, how can I guarantee that I'll control them and not vice versa? Would I know the difference? Would I realise if I was indoctrinated? And even if I can control them, if it became known that I was in control, what would be expected of me by the Alliance, by the Council? The Reapers are too powerful a weapon to ever be given over to anyone. Tyranny often arises from the best intentions; it is a risk I cannot take. And if I don't trust myself with this, there's certainly no one else I trust.

Synthesis? I don't have the right to make that choice for every living being in the galaxy, do I? Who am I to force that kind of change upon them, to play God with every single sentient being's genetic (or electronic) makeup?

Destruction, then. An end to this war. But can I condemn the geth, and EDI, to save the other races? Wilfully destroy those synthetic life forms I have worked so hard to bring into the galactic community as equals? Can I gamble on the possibility, the hope, that they could be rebuilt? Of all the races, the geth would best understand the mathematics, the ruthless calculus, the balance of their lives against our ability to rebuild them, but EDI… EDI is my friend, one of my crew.

That thought, more than anything, makes up my mind. EDI has told me on a number of occasions that she understands the stakes, accepts the risk, will accept the sacrifice, the same as any other soldier. And it's not like I'm asking her to do what I won't be doing myself – I have no illusions that this is anything other than a one way trip; likely the walk to the conduit will take everything I have left, and if it doesn't, the obscenely warm leak of blood from my side will catch me before too much longer.

In the end, I have no proof that this constructed child is even telling me the truth. This could all be lies. I could already be succumbing to indoctrination. I'm too damn tired to think it through. There is only one way, really, to be certain I have achieved my goal. I will simply have to hope the other races will want to try and help the geth. "I'm sorry, EDI. Liara, I...I'm so sorry. I loved you beyond hope, beyond reason, but this ends here. Now." I raise my pistol and fire, blowing the console and ensuring that, no matter what, the Reapers' twisted harvest will be finished.

For eternity.

Fire and pain engulf me.

* * *

 

Screaming, I snap awake in the Cerberus lab, carrying the memory of the Citadel into my consciousness. I killed them all. The geth, EDI –  _oh God, Joker, I'm so, so sorry_  – all dead by my hand. The enormity of it swamps me; three hundred thousand Batarians were a drop in the ocean compared to this. Guilt and self-reproach crash through me like a tsunami smashing onto a beach. Blinded by tears, fighting to breathe against the sobs forcing their way up from the depths of chest, I start to hyperventilate and the sudden vacuum is a welcome escape.

" _Shepard_!"

Liara's voice. She's frightened. I jerk upright, thrashing wildly, looking around for a threat. "Liara?"

She's leaning down over me, fingers laced in my hair. "Thank the Goddess. You started convulsing, I thought you were going to hurt yourself. What did you see?"

"I know what I did," I whisper. "I remember. I killed the geth. And EDI."

"What do you mean, you killed them?"

"I was given a choice. Take control of the Reapers, synthesise all organic and synthetic life, or destroy all synthetic life." I force myself to sit, to meet Liara's compassionate gaze. "I had to be sure. Taking control, I couldn't do that. I could never be sure if I was controlling them or they were controlling me, if it was just another path to indoctrination. Synthesis would mean changing every living being in the galaxy. I didn't think I had the right. Who am I to decide that for everyone? So I chose the only thing I knew would finish this, the only thing I could trust in, and in doing that, I committed genocide and murdered my friend."

Liara takes my face in her hands and kisses me, a hard, deep, desperate kiss. The close contact lets me link with her, and as she patiently explores my memory I feel her fear that she will lose me to this, to this guilt and grief. "No," she whispers against my lips before sitting back. She does not relinquish her hold on my face. "Rachel, listen to me. I know what you are feeling, and how much that choice hurt you, but it was the only thing you could have done. After everything they have done to us, how could you trust the word of the Reapers' controller? Destroying the Reapers was the only way to be sure." She slides her arms around my neck and pulls me close, kissing my cheek as I bury my face in her neck. "My poor, poor Rachel. You knew all along that you couldn't save everyone."

"I know, but to have it so cut and dried. You can save every race but that one. Either they perish, or you all do." I'm crying, tears blurring my vision as I cling to Liara as though she can somehow stop me from drowning in my own anguish. "I tried so hard to bring the geth to us, to make them see that organics could be trusted, and first chance I get I throw them on the pyre. I'm such a fucking hypocrite."

"That's  _not_  true."

"Isn't it? God help me, Li, I don't think I could have done it if the price had been any other race. Wipe out the Krogan? Or the Quarians?" I pull back, locking my gaze to my lover's. "I know I couldn't have done it if they'd asked me to sacrifice the Asari. But the Geth? Hell, why not, they're only fucking flashlight heads."

Liara flinches at the self-loathing in my tone, but she does not break my gaze. "Never in all the time I have known you have I seen you treat any being, organic or synthetic, with anything but courtesy and respect. You are species-blind, Rachel, treating each individual on their merits, and that is a rarity even among my people. Without you, EDI would never have evolved as much as she did. Without you, the Geth would have massacred the Quarians, and been a dagger at our back as we tried to stop the Reapers."

"That didn't give me the right to wipe them out as soon as they became  _inconvenient_!"

Liara moves closer, resting her forehead against mine for a moment. "I don't believe for a minute that that's what you did. I think you rationalised the choice. I think you made a decision in hope, counting on the one difference between organics and synthetics."

"Which is?"

"That organics can build and repair synthetics, but synthetics cannot build organics. Destroying the Geth is perhaps not quite the genocide it would be with an organic race. What the Quarians built once, they can build again, especially now the Geth have shown themselves to be such an asset in recolonizing Rannoch." She strokes my cheek with her thumb. "Miranda rebuilt you, and you're far more complex than any geth. The precedent has been set."

Her words spark the faintest ember of hope. Perhaps, perhaps, there is a future for the geth, the future Legion gave his life for. "And what about EDI? I betrayed her, betrayed Joker."

"You made a command decision. A member of your crew gave her life to ensure the mission could be completed. Like Kaidan."

"It's not the fucking same!" I retort, pulling back from Liara's embrace. She holds my shirt, stopping me from pulling too far back.

"Yes it is," she remonstrates gently. "You had to decide if Kaidan's life was worth more than the mission, and you had to make the same choice with EDI. A choice you know she would understand and accept, a choice we all would, a choice you had already made with your own life." Liara's hands cup my face once more. "Rachel, you will never know whether you were told the truth. Whether the choice was anything other than an attempt to make you pick an outcome that was to the Reaper's advantage. But you did what you thought was best, for as many people as you could. What was built once, can be rebuilt. And if the choice had been another race? You would still have done  _what you thought was best_ , and no one has the right to judge you for that. Besides, there is no point in asking 'what if?'  _This_  was the choice you were presented with,  _this_  was the choice you made. Anything else is simply abstract, a needless torment. You did what you thought was right. You are neither monster nor murderer. And I still love you. I will  _always_  love you."

"I want to believe that," I whisper, staring down at the floor, wrestling with the balm of hope Liara's words have given me.

"Believe it," Liara whispers, tilting my chin up until our gazes lock. Her eyes flash to obsidian, and we're joined before I can even gasp. Liara's thoughts merge with mine, and I'm surrounded suddenly by a sense of overwhelming love and peace.  _I cannot lie to you here, Liara's voice whispers. You know that. Let me show you how I feel._

I surrender to her wish, letting my guard down completely, and I suddenly see myself standing on the bridge of the Normandy. I'm taller than those around me, larger than life. Those around me are encouraged merely by my presence; my words and attention are enough to inspire.

 _I know you hate to be praised_ , Liara murmurs,  _but Goddess, in all my life I have never met anyone as good and kind as you. You are everything I can ever imagine wanting in a partner; I love you more than life. Rachel Shepard, you are my heart, my soul. Without you, I am nothing. Please, lay down this burden. It is not yours to carry any longer. You have done the best you can, and your best is far better than anyone else could have done. Lay it down, my love. You've done your job. You've saved those who could be saved. It's over. We can be together, finally, with nothing to stand between us. Please, my beloved, do not break your promise to me now. Do not forsake me when I need you most._

 _Never,_  I swear fervently,  _never. I'm yours, always. And I'm always coming back._ Even as I think it, I feel the shift in my own mind.  _Shake it off, marine. You're not finished - you've got one mission left to complete._

 _Attagirl_ , Liara chuckles, withdrawing her link gently.

As the meld fades and I become aware of the med bay once again, Liara lets out a cry of surprise. "Shepard, look!"

The door to the bay has materialised. "Well, all right. Looks like your theory was correct. Not that I had any doubt." I roll carefully off the bed and stand up. "So, I walk through there, I wake up? In the real world?"

"That's my best guess," Liara agrees. "Are you ready?"

Fear grips me, sudden and all-consuming. "No. No, I'm not. What if I wake up and..."  _You're not there. You've been taken from me._ "I don't know if I can live without you."

"You can't hide in here forever, Rachel. What if I'm waiting by your bedside, distraught at the coma that keeps you from me?"

She's right. As usual. I walk to the door, halting as realize Liara has made no move to follow me. "Aren't you coming?"

She smiles tenderly. "No, my love. You have to walk out on your own. But I'll always be here if you need me."

"I love you."

"I know. Go, Commander Shepard. I am lost without you. Find me."

Squaring my shoulders, I step through the door.


	44. Repairs and Restoration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liara

Since my declaration, I have been a woman on a mission, as Shepard would say. With Ash restored to something like her former self, and my new-found determination, the Normandy crew have excelled themselves. Work, direction, orders; these are enough to allow us to displace most of our fears and doubts. It has been just over five weeks since we landed; repairs are almost complete, with Tali, Adams, Daniels and Donnelly all grey-faced with exhaustion (I can't see Tali's face, but I extrapolate their fatigue to her). Not knowing is eating at all of us; not just Shepard's fate, but the fate of Earth, the fate of the galaxy.

How pompous that sounds. We know the Crucible fired, we know that is to blame for our current predicament, but we do not know if it really worked. If the Reapers are gone, or if, at the end, we ran from the fight to save ourselves from the inevitable for some small measure of time.

My network is still patchy, sporadic; like a jigsaw puzzle without a picture for reference, I can see small clusters, some coherent data, but not the wider picture. I know there is a problem with the mass relays, for example, but not what. Omega is thriving. Thessia is quiet, but stable. Earth remains a black hole. Still, the reconstruction of fractured components into a coherent whole is a key competency for an archaeologist, and deploying my academic skills provides me with purpose, and something other than my grief to focus on when my assistance is not required with the ship.

Joker has been waiting patiently for a clear night sky, and when he finally gets his chance, he is a man possessed, staying out all night with his charts. When he finally steps back indoors, his face says he is tired but satisfied. "Joker?" Ash asks, taking responsibility for everyone's curiosity.

Even bereaved, Joker is not a man to ever squander a moment like this. "Fellow sentient beings. Unaccustomed as I am to public speaking..." the glint in his eye has given him away.

"Joker!" This time Ash voices a threat rather than a question, and the pilot flinches away exaggeratedly.

"Oh, yeah, threaten the cripple, big bad Spectre lady." He holds up his hands as Ash scowls at him, a promise of violence in the shift of her weight toward him. "OK, OK, pax! I know where we are. We didn't get that far away from Sol. If we get this bird in the air and get the FTL drive operational at minimum jump period, minimum power draw, we can get back to Earth within two weeks."

Ash's scowl evaporates into a relieved grin, and Vega whoops in delight as he pounds Joker on the back. The pilot yelps in pain, and Vega hastily pulls his next blow, turning to bump fists with Garrus. "All right!" the Lieutenant exults. "You hear that, Scars? We're heading back to civilisation!"

"Well, a poor imitation of it at any rate," Garrus chuckles.

"Garrus! Ash! Liara!" Tali's voice crackles excitedly over the comm. "You have to see this! Meet me in Engineering."

I exchange a quick glance with Ash, who shrugs with her eyebrows as she turns away from the pilot. "Good job, Joker," she congratulates. "OK, let's go see what's getting Tali all worked up."

"I thought that was Garrus," Joker cracks as we leave the bridge, and the Turian scowls. I restrain him with a gentle hand on the shoulder, and he sighs theatrically.

"Ash, would it really be so bad if I broke him a little bit? Just a couple of ribs, nothing too debilitating?"

Ash chuckles. "Sorry, G, we kinda need him in one piece."

"No we don't," Garrus protests. "Liara's a qualified pilot. She could fly us home."

"That's true," I agree. "The helm interface is actually very simple."

"Well, in that case, Garrus, break away," Ash relents with a grin.

"You're far too sensitive, Garrus," I chide him. "Some of the things he says to Rachel and I are far, far worse."

"Yeah, but..." Garrus cuts off as we step out of the elevator to see Tali practically dancing with impatience in the gangway.

"Come on!" she barks, leading the way into Engineering.

"Aye aye, Admiral," Ash laughs as she obeys.

Adams, Daniels and Donnelly are waiting for us, all grinning like schoolchildren. "OK, we're here, what is it?" Ash demands.

"Good afternoon, Lieutenant Commander Williams," a familiar voice responds from the bulkhead speaker.

"EDI?" I gasp, stunned. I stare at Tali. "You did it? You fixed her?"

"No, not by any stretch of the imagination," Tali admits. "Her memory is still in pieces, and some of it will be irrecoverable. She doesn't "remember" much in this format. Her operating system's too complex for me to tamper with using the tools and data storage we have here - we need to reload what hasn't been corrupted to clean cores to assess how much damage has been done. We need a dry dock for that, and some experienced techs. She can't interface with the ship's systems beyond VI functionality – I grafted the operational framework from Glyph's programming for now– but this at least proves that  _something_  can be done."

"Admirla Tali'Zorah has been helping me," EDI interrupts. "I am not fully restored to all of my functions or memories, but… I know who you all are. Lieutenant Commander Williams, General Vakarian, Dr. T'Soni."

"Tali, that's awesome," Garrus crows, gathering his lover into an exuberant hug.

"Oof! Put me down, Vakarian, you great lug!" Tali squawks, punching at Garrus as he swings her around.

"Welcome back, EDI," I say warmly, "it's good to hear your voice."

"Thank you, Dr. T'Soni. Where is Commander Shepard?"

Garrus sets Tali back on her feet, careful to avoid eye contact as he does so. Ash coughs and looks at the floor. "We don't know," I reply eventually. "We believe she was on the Citadel when the Crucible fired, and we know she was injured in the final assault, but..." I can't frame the words, either in hope or defeat. "We don't know."

"Your biometric data suggest this state of uncertainty distresses you, Dr. T'Soni," EDI observes. "Why?"

"Because I love her, EDI, and I miss her," I explain.

"I do not understand," EDI admits. "That you are aware of her absence is logical, but I do not understand the emotional concepts you are attributing."

Perplexed, I look at Tali, and the quarian shrugs eloquently as she gently uncouples the power pack from the mainframe. "She's just a VI for now," she reminds me. "We won't know if she can ever be more than that again unless we can get to the right facilities. It might realistically be the best we can do for her. We might only be able to preserve the echo."

Garrus hugs her reassuringly. "You've made a start," he says encouragingly. "You don't have much in the way of tools or supplies, and you built a VI to house what memory you were able to salvage. And you did it all while helping to repair the most advanced starship in the galaxy under threat of attack from evil spider-bugs. You're amazing, Tali."

"You're just saying that to get me into bed," Tali teases, but she burrows more tightly into his embrace. "What I really wanted your opinion on was whether or not to tell Joker now?" Adams signals Gabby and Ken, and the three human engineers leave us to our discussion.

Ash frowns as she considers it. "I don't think we can," she says finally. "We still don't know for sure whether we'll be able to recover her fully - if we can't, we would just be building his hopes up for nothing. Given how much he's already lost, that might just be cruel."

"On the other hand, it might help," Tali points out. "If this would give him something to hope for, something to live for, it would probably do him good."

"Tali, what would the odds be?" I ask, leaning against the quarian's workstation as my leg twinges. "If you were to have all the equipment and assistance you needed, what would be the probability that you could completely restore her?"

"That'll depend on the percentage of her memory we can recover," Tali replies, her tone thoughtful. "Technically speaking, adapting an AI's protocols and programming from a VI, especially one as advanced as Glyph, is not that difficult, so re-instituting an AI into the Normandy, with a satellite platform in the Cerberus chassis, is completely feasible. But it's the memory data that makes EDI... well, EDI. If too much of it is gone, she will not be the way she was before... who she was before."

"The same as if one of us were to develop amnesia?" Garrus asks. Tali nods.

"Not just a pretty face, are you, Garrus? Exactly. So until we can check her databanks properly, there's no way to tell."

"Then I think we should tell him," I agree with Tali. "From my own experience, although you might think it's far better to be suprised by good news, it is a terrible thing to live without hope. Jeff deserves more. And so does EDI."

Ash nods slowly. "Guess I didn't think of it that way. OK, I'll talk to him later, and..." she trails off as Tali looks down and Garrus coughs delicately. She looks at me, and it's all I can do to keep from rolling my eyes at our dextro-based lifeform friends. "What?" she demands of the room at large.

Neither Tali nor Garrus will step up, it seems, as the silence drags for a moment. "For a pair of so-called heroes, you two certainly lack courage, don't you?" I rebuke them exasperatedly. "Ash, would you mind if I spoke to Joker instead? Having been in his position, I might be able to empathize more."

Ash looks instantly relieved. "Would you, Liara? That'd be great." She swivels her gaze to fix a stare on Tali and Garrus, eyes narrowing. "I hope you two were paying attention. That's how you tell your CO she sucks at something without actually telling her she sucks."

"Sorry, Ash," Garrus says sheepishly. "I was only keeping quiet so I could learn from Liara's example."

"Yeah, my ass, Vakarian," Ash snorts, a grin cracking her stern demeanour. "Don't you two have someplace better to be?"

"Totally," Tali agrees, grabbing Garrus by the neck of his armour and marching him toward the door. "I suddenly remember that there seem to be a few things in the forward gun battery in need of serious calibration. See you later!"

Ash lays a hand on my shoulder. "You OK? You don't have to talk to Joker if you don't want to. I mean, I know you'll handle it far better than me, but if it's too much..."

"No, it's fine, Ash. I'll be fine." I reach up to pat her hand. "How are you doing? We haven't had much time to talk since... well, since you woke me up last week."

Ash colours faintly at the memory. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that."

"Don't be. I didn't think - asari typically don't wear anything to sleep, and Rachel's used to it, so it didn't occur to me that I might need to be more discreet. And I don't normally wake up with a biotic explosion either - you caught me..." it's my turn to blush, "ah, let's just say it was an intense dream."

Ash clears her throat. "Whatever you say, Liara. Anyway, since you ask, I'm developing a new appreciation for Shepard. People are uncertain, and they keep coming to me for reassurance. I try to give it, but I don't think I'm doing a good job. I try to think what Shepard would say, and it comes out all mangled." The Spectre sighs pensively as we begin walking, catching the elevator back to the crew deck. "On a battlefield, I can tell myself I'm Shepard's equal; I'm a damn good soldier, a smart tactician, I can and have led troops in combat. But this..." she waves a hand at the ship," I don't know what the hell I'm doing half the time. And when you gave that little speech the other day, I watched it put heart back into everyone, and I got to thinking maybe you would do a better job. I can carry it off with the lower deck crew, but the officers, and our friends, the ones who're used to seeing Shepard, they have to be comparing me, and it can't be a good comparison."

"We're not comparing you," I assure her gently as we head to the observation deck. "Ash, you're not Rachel and you can't pretend to be. You're you. It might sound trite, but accepting that is part of being a leader. You need to have confidence in your own style. You remember Anderson commanding the Normandy - when Shepard took over from him, did she try to be him?"

Ash shakes her head. "No, but she was already a hero, a born leader."

"My mother used to teach that leaders are not born, they are made. And it's true. Some people may possess a natural spark, a natural gift for it, some may be trained to it from an early age, but leadership can be learned, like any skill. And an important part of that learning is the understanding and acceptance that you are the right person to be doing the job." I take her hands gently. "You declined before, but my offer still stands, and I think you would find it helpful now."

Ash frowns for a moment, trying to remember, and then nods, slowly. "OK. If you're sure it won't upset you."

"It probably will, but you don't need to worry about that." I guide her to sit on the couch, and sit beside her. "Close your eyes."

Ash takes a deep, nervous breath and obeys. I close my own eyes, seeking my balance, my centre. After so long with only Rachel's mind to meld with, openly and without restriction, it is important that I remember and correctly set the boundaries and barriers for a directed knowledge meld. And I need a little help with the subject matter; I can only claim to be an expert in one particular human's nature _. Shepard, are you there?_

 _Where else would I be?_  Shepard's cheeky grin is written in her voice. _You sure about this, sweetheart?_

_Yes. She needs you._

_All right then. Make the connection. I'll do the rest._

"Imagine a place where you are at peace, Ash, a place of tranquility and happiness. Relax and remember your joy." I pause for a moment. "Can you see it?"

"Yes," Ash whispers.

"Good. Embrace eternity." I reach out with my mind. Ash fights me for a moment, a brief flash of panic, then surrenders to the peace of her safe, secure memory, and I'm suddenly standing in large kitchen, a well-used, joyfully cluttered kitchen stacked with dishes, cookbooks, utensils and gadgets. The walls are sunshine yellow, the units and worktops are a warm brown wood. A bright summer day streams in through the window, creating a pool of light on the terracotta-flagged floor. A tall, careworn, grey-haired man stands at the stove, his back to us, flipping pancakes with dextrous ease, and a delicious, rich smell permeates the air. Ash is sitting at the scrubbed, faded kitchen table, rapt as she watches the man I assume is her father making breakfast for his girls. "This is beautiful, Ash," I remark as I take the seat next to her. "You are lucky to have such a happy home."

"Yeah," Ash smiles softly, a deep, genuine joy in her expression that I have rarely seen. "So, how does this work?"

"There's someone who'd like to speak to you," I tell her simply, nodding to the kitchen door, where Shepard is standing, rubbing at her neck in nervous anticipation.

Ash bounds out of her chair with a noise like a sob, throwing herself at Shepard and wrapping her in a bear hug. "You goddamn fool, Skipper," she says thickly. "Why'd'you have to go all noble and self-sacrificing, huh? We'd have gone with you."

"Yeah, you with the shattered arm, and her with the shattered leg," Shepard chuckles, gently disengaging from Ash's hug. "It was better this way." Holding the younger woman at arms' length, she smiles affectionately. "You have so little faith in yourself, Ash," she observes. "I trust you with command of my ship, and yet you still believe, deep down, that you're not good enough. I never said it to you before, so I'm going to take this one chance, while I'm so hopelessly under the influence of Liara's compassion that I can't be anything but open. You're stubborn, opinionated, and hot-headed, and God knows you can be grumpy, self-righteous and bitchy," Shepard grins, "but you're my stubborn, opinionated, hot-headed, occasionally grumpy, self-righteous, bitchy little sister. You're brave, kind, loyal, smart, and passionate; you have a heart the size of a planet, and I love you just the way you are. Not having you with me for the fight against the Collectors was like going into battle missing an arm."

Ash flinches at this, and Shepard reaches out to grab her hand. "Hey, I understood why, and you're forgiven, so don't beat yourself up about it any more on my account. Ash, listen to me. You're one hell of a soldier, and you have the technical skills for command, but what makes a good leader is this; trust. Do you believe that I trust you?" Ash nods. "Good. And you trust me?"

"Of course."

"Great. Then believe me when I tell you that you can do this. Trust yourself, trust your team, listen twice as much as you speak, count to ten before you flap your jaw, and above all be honest. If you don't know, just say so. Be yourself, Ash, and it'll all work out fine. You'll make mistakes - God knows I did. Own them. I believe in you. Liara does too. You'll do a great job if you can believe in you too." Shepard leans in and kisses Ash's cheek gently. "Now, enough of this sentimental bull. You get your people home, LC, or I'll see to it that Liara kicks your sorry butt the length of the shuttle bay and then some. Get your ass on the ready line, marine."

"Aye aye, Commander," Ash chokes out. Shepard grins a particularly mischievous grin. "Oh, and one more thing, LC."

"Yeah, Skipper?"

Shepard pulls me to my feet and into her arms, kissing me thoroughly. "I saw you looking," she grins as she sets me back. "Just remember and keep your hands off my girl."

Ash laughs. "You got it." Her eyes well with sudden tears. "I miss you, you dumbass."

Shepard arches an eyebrow. "You dumbass..."

"You dumbass, ma'am." Ash looks away, and I can sense her emotions boiling. Quickly, I withdraw the meld before I see anything I shouldn't.

Ash opens her eyes, dashes her tears from her cheeks and quite suddenly hugs me fiercely. "Thanks, Liara," she murmurs, her voice vibrant with emotion. "I can't tell you how much that meant to me."

"You're welcome, Ash," I reply, hugging her back.

The Spectre releases me, wiping her eyes. "OK. I'd better go do as I'm told, huh?" She gets to her feet. "I'll talk to Joker, Liara. It's my responsibility."

I nod agreement. "If you're sure."

"I'm sure. I'll see you later." She heads out, leaving me to my thoughts.

 _We did good there, didn't we?_  Shepard whispers in my ear, and I smile.

_That we did, Rachel. That we did._


	45. Sleeper, Wake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard

I wake up screaming.

Or trying to. Something is rammed down my throat, something that puts paid to any effective noise, and suddenly I'm gagging and coughing, trying to breathe and puke at the same time, choking.

 _Spaced_.

_Star-dappled blackness all around, the hiss of escaping oxygen, the wail of my suit's HUD alarms._

_Oh, fuck._

Frantically, I try to flail at the blockage. I need to get it out. Need to breathe. My arms are sluggish, then resistant; am I tied down?

An alarm howls, and within seconds firm hands catch my biceps and a soft weight pins me to the bed. "Shepard? Shepard! Jesus... Shepard, listen to me! Listen! Calm down, breathe through your nose."

_Shepard, get out of that bed, now!_

I obey, snorting a deep breath through my nose. The gag reflex dissipates and I flop back to the bed, disoriented and in pain, but aware that the scene has changed. This is not the Cerberus medical bay. Liara is not with me, but as the weight across my torso lifts, and I blink to clear my vision, a familiar alabaster face and a fall of raven hair that match the commanding voice move into view.

Miranda Lawson's once-perfect beauty is flawed, an angry scar running from the bridge of her nose to her left jaw, but her smile as she makes eye contact is as radiant as ever. "Shepard. Nice to have you back with us. Just relax, OK, you're fine, you're among friends." She gently sweeps my tangled hair back out of my face. "Do you know who I am?"

I nod weakly, and her smile broadens. "Good, that's really good. Don't try to move too much. You've been under for a while, and I don't have quite as cutting-edge a lab to work from this time around. Here, let me get these for you." Gently, she removes the breathing tube from my throat, unbuckles the wrist restraints, and offers me a sip of water through a straw.

"Two more years?" I croak as my mouth soaks up the little bit of moisture, and she laughs softly.

"Nothing so drastic. In spite of your best efforts, you were in much better shape this time when the rescue crew found you. 'Not dead' gave me an amazing head-start, although you gave me a hell of a fright a few minutes ago; you went into some kind of damned arrest, hence the need to intubate you and restrain you for a while. You've been out for just over six weeks, give or take." She reaches under the bed, and raises the back so I can sit up, take in the room around me, then places a gentle palm against my cheek and kisses me on the forehead. "Welcome back, Shepard. You gave us all quite a scare."

"It's good to see you, Miri," I return, with feeling, reaching up to cover her hand with my own. "I assume I have you to thank for my recovery?"

"It's a habit I'm glad you've formed. Whatever the beam did, it fried a lot of your implants. Coupled with the physical damage you took, it's a bloody miracle you're still breathing. If I hadn't been here..."

There's no self-aggrandisement in Miranda's tone, simply a statement of fact; she's the only one with enough knowledge of my cybernetics to have made any repairs. "Lucky for me I pulled your ass out of the fire on Horizon, then, huh?" I joke weakly. "How's Oriana?"

"She's fine. Safe and well at a refuge near the coast south of here." Miranda frowns at me as she sits back. "Shepard, I know you've just come round, but... do you remember what happened? With the Crucible?"

"Yeah." I take a deep breath. "There was a... I dunno, a life form or an AI waiting for me, presented itself as the Reaper's controller. I guess it must have been the intelligence Leviathan created. It wanted me to choose a solution, so I chose to destroy the Reapers." I close my eyes for a moment, wrestling a sudden updraft of guilt; Miri's my friend, but I'm not ready to confess this, not yet. "I chose to destroy them. I assume from the fact you've had six weeks to repair me that it worked?"

"It worked. All the Reapers suddenly came crashing down around us. That's how I got this." Miranda gestures to her scar. "One of them broke up on re-entry, and a chunk of it smashed my canopy. I like to think it was Harbinger, still failing to get the job done right."

I laugh weakly, then wince as the motion causes a twinge of pain. "Ooh, don't make me laugh." The pain sobers me, brings me back to the big question. "Miri, I have to know. Did...did the  _Normandy_  make it out?"

The smile fades from Miranda's face. "I don't know, Shepard. We haven't heard from them, not since the Crucible fired. It's entirely possible, even probable, that they jumped away, but there are so many ships unaccounted for that no-one can say for sure what happened. I'm sorry."

I push my rising panic back down; I'm not done with the hard questions. "What about the  _Orizaba_?"

Miranda's smile returns. "There I can set your mind at rest. The  _Orizaba_  is on station at the Citadel, all hands accounted for. Your mother calls me daily for progress reports, and visits three times a week - she's very like you."

"She is. She is. That's good, good... I'm glad she's safe. Who else is here that you know of?"

"Jack is prowling around, keeping this suite private with her pupils and that bloody varren. Keeps telling me she'll smear the walls with me if I let you die. Wrex and Grunt were here, but they left last week on a turian cruiser to investigate the relay to Aralakh. Samara is still around, discouraging people from looting the facility, and Kasumi is still on the Crucible, I think, no doubt boosting anything that isn't nailed down. Lieutenant Cortez has been re-assigned to the Citadel transportation runs. I haven't heard from Jacob." Her expression clouds with sorrow at this admission. "Brynn's fine, though, she's with Ori. Zaeed Massani was killed when Harbinger landed - we found his body near the beam site. Your Prothean friend – Javik, was it – hasn't been seen since the Crucible fired." Miranda snaps her fingers. "Oh, and Matriarch Aethyta's here. The Destiny Ascension's assisting with relay repairs, so the matriarch's gone and set up a makeshift bar downstairs. It's the damndest thing. The rescue and clean-up crews certainly appreciate it, though."

Liara's father's survival is cheering news; somehow, in my woozy brain, Aethyta's presence equates to double the chance of the Normandy coming home. Another person who wants the same thing I do; Liara back with us, safe and unharmed. Tears well up at the thought, and Miranda cups my cheek gently, seemingly reading my thoughts. "It's OK, Shepard. A lot of ships jumped clear, there's no reason to think the Normandy hasn't done the same. Her stealth drive makes her hard to spot at the best of times. Wherever they wound up, I'm sure they're headed home. Every day we get a new stray making their way back – even Hackett's flagship only arrived two weeks ago." She combs her fingers gently through my hair. "I'm going to put you back under, OK? Sleep is the best thing for you at the moment - it'll make the integration of the new components easier. You're not quite out of the woods yet - there are a few modifications I still need to make, and not all the damage is completely healed."

I lift my hand to grasp at Miranda's. "Will you stay with me, Miri?" I beg, suddenly frightened of going back, even though I know Liara waits in my dreams. This new doubt will make it painful to see her.

Miranda squeezes my fingers in response. "Of course, Shepard," she promises, tears in her own eyes. "Whatever you need, I'm here for you. Just relax. Nothing's going to happen to you while I'm in charge. And you will wake up again, I promise." She administers the shot, and darkness rises up to claim me.


	46. Our Rock and Our Redeemer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liara

"Clear all moorings. Running lights engaged. IFF activated and transmitting."

"All moorings confirmed clear, running lights operating, IFF is… confirmed, transmitting."

"Secure all doors and hatches for space and cross-check."

"Stand by...confirmed. All doors and hatches secure for space and cross-checked. All boards are green. Co-pilot is good to."

Joker swivels his seat around to regard me at the port cyberwarfare station. "Thanks. All boards are green, pilot is good to go." He taps the comm toggle. "Attention all hands. Commencing lift-off in thirty, three-zero, seconds. Drop what you're doing and buckle up." Cutting the pickup he waggles his eyebrows. "Well, Liara, here goes nothing. Commencing primary ignition."

The Normandy's drive core wakes with a deep grumble, reverberating through the ship for a few seconds before regulating to a steady low hum. The comm crackles. "Joker, Adams here. Everything looks good down here, all tolerances in the green. We are five-by-five, helm. Let's she how she flies."

"Copy that, Adams, thanks." Joker nods to himself as his fingers fly over the haptic interface. "OK, bring the reaction control thrusters online, Liara, please."

"Acknowledged." I activate the ship's fine directional thruster suite, drawing power from the drive to warm up the mixing chambers. "Setting thrusters for vertical vector."

"Bringing the sublight suite to standby," Joker murmurs. The bigger, more powerful drive thrusters will be needed to break gravity. "We are all systems go. Standby to launch in five...four...three...two...one...mark."

Normandy's thrusters howl to life, the sound ripping through the air in the cockpit as the power rattles the deck and sends tingling vibrations running though my body. The shaking intensifies as Joker slides his fingers down the interface, opening the thrust nozzles, and with a sickening jolt, the ship lurches into the air, pushing off against the ground in a blast of fire. We rise slowly, clearing the tree line, clearing the "bounce" altitude, and Joker flicks the reaction control thrusters to horizontal, delicately blipping the sublight thrusters for a fraction of a second to slingshot us forward and up. Within minutes, we have enough altitude to perform an escape burn without scorching anything beneath us, and the Normandy soars free of the planet that has been both refuge and cage, back out into open space. Joker lets out a long, shrill whoop of fierce joy. "All right! My baby's flying again!"

It's good to see him happy, even if only for a moment. Since Ash spoke to him about EDI, he's been very quiet and reflective. He's confided to me that he feels helpless, and I can relate too well to how he feels. Burying the thought for the moment, I concentrate on my instrument readings and completing the pre-FTL inspection checklist.

It doesn't take long. Less than fifteen minutes after launch, the Normandy is accelerating easily toward minimum FTL, all systems operating as expected, and there's a palpable sense of relief in the atmosphere as I walk back along the CIC to where Traynor is working at her console. "Anything now that we're clear of planetary interference?" I ask. Ash pauses in her orbit of the command deck to join us.

Traynor shakes her head. "No. Not that I was expecting anything, we cleared up most of the directional issues last week." She grins. "God, it's good to be off that insect-infested dirtball, though, isn't it?"

"It is," I agree. "I was getting very tired of being viewed as a walking snack bar. And of eating those tuber roots we seemed to find so many of."

"Ugh, tell me about it," Ash agrees ardently. "If I never see a potato again it'll be too soon."

Traynor laughs. "Speak for yourself - I'm looking forward to a great big portion of fish and chips. Crispy battered cod and big, thick soggy chips drenched in vinegar - there must be some little village tucked away in some godforsaken corner of the British Isles that still has a chippy open for business."

I look to Ash for clarification, and the Spectre shrugs eloquently. Sam gapes at us. "Seriously? Oh, that's it, when we get back, if I do find such a place, you'll have to try it, both of you. It's heavenly."

I leave Ash and Sam to their discussion of what foods they have missed the most and make my way up to the quiet solace of Shepard's cabin. Looking up through the skylight, I can see the stars, endless and infinite, and I flop down on the bed to watch them drifting by for a while. Shepard's hoodie is still lying where I abandoned it this morning, and I hug it to me, burying my nose in the soft fabric. It no longer smells of her; it smells of me, so often have I worn it. But she was wearing it on the last night we spent together in this room, and the memory is a comfort.

_"It would be easy for a single ship to get lost up there, wouldn't it?"_

_Shepard smiles wryly. "Yeah. It would."_

_"To find someplace very far away," I continue to the absurd, logical conclusion, "where you could spend the rest of your life... in peace. And happiness."_

_Rachel turns to look at me, then presses a kiss to my cheek before sitting up. "Right now there's no place I'd rather be," she says firmly, and I sit up, turning her head so that she is staring into my eyes._

_"Neither would I," I assure her, closing in to take a soft, sweet kiss from her warm lips. "I love you, Rachel."_

_"I love you too, Liara."_

_I smile mischievously. "Show me."_

It was a perfect night, and as I lie alone in the cabin, my tears begin to fall as I remember how Shepard wept as we made love, how she dropped every barrier, let me share every hope, every fear, the smothering weight of her responsibilities; how she allowed me to take them from her, soothe her and calm her until, together, we found some measure of peace. How she fell asleep before me, wrung out by plumbing the depths of her emotions, cuddling into me in childlike trust, and how my own tears fell as I held her close, praying desperately that this would not be the last time, that I would be able to hold my lover like this again. "Goddess, she has given so much, and asked for so little in return. I ask not for my own sake, but for hers; she is the brightest and most brilliant of your creations. Grant her the peace she so deserves, and if ever I have done right in your sight, I beg you... do not take her from me."

I repeat the prayer now, alone in the same bed, watching the stars drift by in indifferent splendour, but before I have time to really ride the downdraft into misery, the door chime sounds. "Come in," I call, wiping my eyes hastily.

Karin Chakwas steps into the cabin. "I suspected I might find you here," she says kindly as she advances down the steps, arms laden with a bottle and two glasses. "Now that we're on our way back, I thought we might drink a toast, you and I." She sets the glasses on the table and opens the bottle. "To my lasting regret this is mass produced navy rum and not Serrice ice brandy, but it's all there is left in my stores."

"Then I have a better idea," I suggest, moving to the cupboard beneath the fish tank, which houses Admiral Anderson's serendipitously discovered private stash, and retrieving a dark green, squat bottle of single malt Scottish whisky. The name is unpronounceable - I smile as the memory of Donnelly trying to teach Shepard the correct pronunciation flashes through my mind - but it has a dark, smoky taste unlike anything else I have tried and that I do enjoy. I work the cork out of the neck and return to the table, pouring two healthy measures and adding a splash of water to each, per Donnelly's recommendation. Swirling the bright amber liquid in the glasses, I hand one to Karin. "What should we drink to?"

Karin sits down and pats the couch beside her. "I'd like to propose a toast to you, my dear," she offers as I sit.

"Me? Why would you want to do that?" I ask, shocked by the notion.

"A few weeks ago, I asked you to have a word with Williams, in the hope that having both of you talk about your feelings might promote some sort of grieving process. What I've seen take place instead is something quite remarkable. Cheers, by the way."

"Cheers." I raise my glass and we both sip at our drinks. I savour the smoky taste and the pleasant burn in my throat for a moment, then prompt the doctor. "You were saying?"

"Yes. I've watched you talking to the crew, taking the time to make sure each and every one of them has had a chance to speak to you, share their feelings with you. I've watched you take them into your confidence, share a word or a story that makes them lift their heads and smile. I've seen how each one of those conversations has made you stronger, reminded you of Shepard's love, not just for you, but for all of her friends and her crew, her family aboard this very special ship. In short, Liara, even though you may have chosen to defer operationally to Ashley, I am in no doubt that you've taken command of the Normandy and her crew."

I stare at her, nonplussed. "Shepard left Ash in command. I'm not trying to undermine her."

"I didn't say you were. And you're not, but if Ash is the brains, you are the heart."

My cheeks heat in embarrassment. "That's kind of you, Karin. I... I just... when you first suggested it, I didn't want to. I wanted to just sit in here and pretend this wasn't happening." I take a larger sip of my drink, debating what I am about to say, but if Karin wants to sedate me for hearing voices, I suppose at least I will not be awake to fret and worry. "But Shepard talked me into it."

Chakwas arches one elegant eyebrow. "Shepard talked you into it?"

"It sounds... unbelievable, I know. I bonded with Rachel in London, just before the final push," I explain. "When an asari takes a bondmate they share a piece of themselves, take a piece of their partner, in the form of exchanged memories. You experience their life, they experience yours, and there are other gifts that can manifest, depending on the melding skill and frequency of the bondmates, the depth of their affection, their time together and so on. Since I woke up after the crash I've been hearing Shepard, and seeing her sometimes. We can talk, and she..." I shake my head. "I know she's not really here, but goddess, sometimes it's so lifelike. I've never heard of a bond manifesting like this before, but it's been a huge help. I don't know if I could have done anything without her... it."

Karin regards me thoughtfully. "I don't know enough about the physiology of asari bonding to even make a guess," she admits, "but given the steady improvement in your outlook and emotional stability, I'd say it's been having a very positive effect."

 _That was the general idea_ , Shepard mutters in my aural cavity.

"Shush," I rebuke her unthinkingly, and Chakwas frowns slightly. "Sorry, Karin, I wasn't talking to you. That's what I mean. She'll just pop into my head and say something, or sometimes, she'll come when I call."

Karin smiles. "Well, it's clearly not doing you any harm, though I'd like to give you a quick check-up tomorrow just to be sure. Regardless, I wanted to thank you for everything you've done for the crew of this ship. You've been a rock, in spite of your own pain. You've become the crew's focal point, the embodiment of their hopes, and not once have you flinched or been found wanting under that burden." The doctor reaches out to pat my arm. "In fact, you remind me a great deal of a certain Commander of our mutual acquaintance. And as I said the other day, I think Shepard would be incredibly proud of you."

 _Damn straight_ , Shepard crows, and I can't help but grin.

"I take it that was a validation of my opinion," Chakwas chuckles. She lifts her glass. "So, to you, Liara. May the end of this journey bring you the happiness you wish for. Because as far as I can see, no one in the galaxy deserves to be happy more than you."


	47. Survivors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard

When I wake again, my mom is sitting by my bed. She looks exhausted, and she's more grey-haired than I remember, but the smile that lights her face as she sees me stir strips years from her. "Oh, Rachel, baby," she whispers, leaning in to kiss my forehead.

"Hi Mom," I manage in return. As words, they are entirely inadequate, but the warm, secure feeling they generate is anything but insufficient. Mom's here; everything will be all right. She smooths back an errant lock of my hair, tucking it behind my ear.

"I was worried about you, Junior," she says quietly. "I really thought you'd bitten off more than you could chew this time."

"Story of my life lately, ever since someone decided I'd be a good Spectre."

"Were they wrong?" Mom asks with a faint smile.

"Guess not." I manage half a grin. "Never underestimate a Shepard, right?"

"Damn straight." Mom chuckles softly. "Even though I'm only one by association, I find it rubs off on you."

"Have you heard from anyone else?" Mom's been estranged from her family for years; the Harrisons were an old money family for whom career military was roughly the equivalent of a street gang. I've never met any of them; Mom left home at sixteen in a fit of teenage rebellious pique, and never looked back, quickly being swept into the rough-and-tumble affections and honourable institution of the Shepard clan upon meeting my Dad at OCS. One of four kids, my Dad may have left us early, but he furnished us with a small army of aunts, uncles and cousins to ensure we never lacked for support, love, and a place to visit for the holidays. And he left me a tradition to uphold. Dad's older brothers, the twins Uncle Jack and Uncle Alan, rotated out just before I was appointed to the Normandy. My Aunt Kate, the baby of the bunch, is an instructor at OCS, my big cousin Mark was KIA a few years back during a cluster-fuck operation against a Batarian slave ring on Torfan, and I have a number of little cousins still not quite old enough to enlist. But with all that's gone on, I find it hard to hold out much hope.

To my surprise, my mother nods. "Kate was among the evacuees that were picked up by Third Fleet as it got out of Dodge, and she's been helping train volunteers on Shield. I heard from her this morning, she's fine. I haven't heard from Alan, but Jack managed to get a message through. When the Reapers landed, they were on holiday, a camping trip in the Rockies, out in Colorado. Jack figured they'd be safest if they stayed put and lived off the land, so that's pretty much what they did. He's got his whole tribe with him."

"That's great," I breathe, deeply relieved by the news. I don't see my extended family much, but we're a close-knit bunch, and we're all military brats together. When we hook up, it's like we were never apart. "What about your side?" I ask. Touchy subject; Mom likes to pretend it doesn't bother her, but deep down, the wounds still sting.

She shrugs awkwardly, trying not to care, and feeling guilty for trying not to care. "Nothing. Not that I expect to hear anything. I tried a few times, but Washington and its surrounds were hit hard - not many survivor stories coming from the Eastern seaboard. And even if anyone did survive, I doubt they'd try to contact me. After all, it's only the end of the world, right? Hell didn't freeze over."

There's nothing I can say to this, so I elect to change the topic. "Any news from the Fleet? Any sign of the Normandy?"

My mom's face clouds as she shakes her head. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, nothing yet. The Shenyang's out by the relay, keeping watch for strays; we'll know as soon as anyone shows up." Her expression fills with sympathy; she has lost a crew before, she understands my pain. Or she would, if it was only about my crew. "I know your crew mean a lot to you, but you have to be realistic about their chances."

I don't want to be realistic. I just want the Normandy home, with Liara and the others safe and well. I want Liara back; I need her to help me deal with what I've been through. I can't do it on my own. I kept my promise, with Miranda's help; it's not right that she doesn't know it. I close my eyes for a moment so that I don't have to look at the pity on my mother's face. I haven't told her about Li. There was never a good time before, and now, I'm afraid to. I'm afraid to give voice to my need, to my wish, in case it jinxes any chance of it happening. Stupid and irrational, but there you have it.

"Rachel, honey," Mom pinches my cheek gently, "what happened to you up there? Steven told me you activated the Crucible, but judging from the state of you it doesn't seem to have been a case of push the big red button."

As I open my eyes, look into my mother's gaze and see her concern and love, the fragile threads of my composure snap. I dreamt of the Citadel again as I slept, reliving the terror, the guilt, the pain, and this time there was no Liara to lean on. Leaning in, I rest my head against my mom's chest, and her arms wrap around me instinctively. As the tears well up I bury my face in her uniform jacket. The familiar scent of her perfume mixed with wool, the awkward mechanics of how she holds me because I'm so much taller and bulkier, the soft press of her mouth to the top of my head; this is my childhood home. Not a planet or a city, or even a ship; just Mom, the peace and security of this close and warm embrace. Sobbing, I let her rock me gently, whispering soothing nothings into my hair as she strokes my back.

Eventually, I recover enough self-command to get a grip on my emotions, and I haltingly recount the last push to the beam, and the showdown with the Illusive Man. Tears dampen my mom's face as I tell her of Anderson's last moments. "Oh, God, David," she murmurs. "I'll miss him. He was so good to me, and you, when your Dad died. He was always there for me, even after he met Kahlee. Daniel loved him like a brother, and he doted on you. I'm glad you were with him... he would have liked that, he thought the world of you."

Pain spikes in my chest at the thought. I was four years old when my Dad was killed in the line during a Batarian border skirmish, and Anderson, along with my Grandpa and my uncles, filled in for him as often as he could. He was a part of making me who I am, and the knowledge that I contributed to his death, however involuntarily, cuts at me like a blunt razor.

But there is more to tell, and I carry on with my tale, explaining the Reaper intelligence and its goals to my mother. Outrage sparks in her sharp, dark gaze as I relate the choice I was forced to make. "My God," she breathes, "if we'd known... There was no way you could have contacted anyone?" Her hold around me tightens. "You should never have had to make that choice alone, baby. Never."

"There wasn't time for a debate - every second I delayed, more people died. And I couldn't... I was so tired I didn't even think of it. All I knew was I had to end it. I had to be sure."

Mom nods soberly. "I don't know what to say, kiddo, except that in your place I'd have made the same damn choice. Our objective from the get-go was clear; stop the Reapers, no matter the cost. That was our primary goal; anything we managed to salvage was always realistically going to be a bonus." She strokes my cheek with her thumb. "You saved so many, you stopped the Reapers from wiping out billions of people. It sounds trite, I know, but mourn the dead, and care for the living, OK?" She hugs me tightly. "I'm so proud of you, kiddo. So damn proud."

It's not absolution - no one can give me that - but I do feel better at my mom's words, at her confirmation that my choice would have been her choice. I know Mom always tries to do the right thing. I close my eyes and let myself drift for a moment, imagine for a brief time that this is everything I need, that this is enough to make me happy.

"Shep? Oh, excuse me, Admiral, I didn't realise you were here." Miranda's voice heralds her entry to the room and I open my eyes. More lucid today, I take in the Alliance uniform, the regulation ponytail, and the Major's rank insignia, and cover my grin by faking a yawn. Some things will never change. Oddly enough, it looks good on her.

"Hey, Miri," I greet her as she steps to the side of the bed, datapad in hand. Mom frowns slightly.

"You know each other?" she enquires.

"I had the opportunity to serve on the Normandy briefly a while back," Miranda explains easily. "It was a temporary post, and we hit it off quite well. We kept in touch afterwards." I'm impressed; there wasn't a word of a lie in there.

"What are the odds of that?" my Mom marvels, and Miranda and I exchange a knowing look. I will tell her everything, but not today.

"Pretty amazing, right?" Miranda agrees, winking at me. "All right, Shep, your blood work's looking good, your brainwave patterns all check out, and most of the physical damage has been corrected. Everything else should just be a matter of time, patience and therapy." She reaches down to grip my hand. "Although I'd imagine PTSD will kick in at some point. You've put yourself through hell, pushed yourself beyond even your limits. There will be a price for that."

I nod calmly. "I figured. I was worried for a while that we'd gone straight in without waiting for it to be post-trauma. I've been having nightmares for months."

"What you saw that first day in Vancouver would have been enough to give anyone PTSD," Miranda observes, "then you got straight on the ship, watched Commander Williams get disassembled by a mech, then plunged headlong into the battle for Palaven. And so on, and so on, yea unto the end of the war. Do you ever just sit the hell down for five minutes?"

"I was parked on my ass for six months not too long ago."

"Yes, well, it's a good thing Cerberus installed all those upgrades - you'd have run yourself into the ground a while back, otherwise," Miranda smirks.

"Yeah, laugh it up. How did I get here, anyway? I set off the Crucible, and the damn thing blew up in my face. I was way up in some secret part of the Citadel."

"You were buried under a pile of rubble in the Council Chamber," Miranda replies.

"Again?"

"Well, you'll recall what I said about your lifestyle not so long ago, but at least this time you avoided any fish tanks. Anyway, the search team were picking through the rubble, and one of them heard you shout. You blacked out as they got to you. You were bloody lucky. Another half-hour and you'd have been dead."

"Not with you here," I grin. "You wouldn't let me stay dead. It'd be an insult to your handiwork."

Miranda laughs. "You're right about that." She turns to my mother. "Admiral, I'm sorry, but it's time for the Commander's next course of adjustments. I'll need to put her out for a few hours."

"Sure, Dr. Lawson, no problem." Mom leans in and kisses me on the forehead. "I'll see you soon, honey." She does not relinquish her hold on my hand as Miranda preps her syringe. As the shot hits my IV line, my last image is of my Mom looking down at me, smiling.


	48. Crossing the Rubicon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liara

Finally, Joker confirms to our company that we are twelve hours from Sol. Twelve hours until we find out the truth of what happened as we fled the final battle. Twelve hours until my future is set in stone.  
I have not permitted myself to think during our return trip. Tali's progress with EDI is on hold, so we are short-crewed for more than just a commanding officer. As the only other qualified pilot aboard, I have been alternating helm shifts with Joker, keeping us en route as much as possible, shortening our travel time. When I am not in the pilot's seat (EDI's station is sacrosanct) I swing command shifts with Ash to let her sleep, assist Sam with our communications, interrogate Glyph for updates and scraps of gossip, anything to keep me from considering what lies at the end of our journey. Wondering. Waiting. I am exhausted, but the closer we get to Sol, the more painful it is becoming to see and hear Rachel in my mind. I am in conflict with myself, and trying desperately to avoid facing up to my fears.  
Joker thwarts my plan to keep up my displacement activity by claiming the helm for the final leg shortly after his announcement. When I try to convince him to take a break, he shakes his head adamantly. "Sorry, Liara, but you're done with the helm. You've been a godsend, but I want to be the one to bring her home."  
"Just a few hours, Joker, so you're rested for the final approach."  
"No, Liara. I want to do this, and it's my job." He flashes me a rare, sad smile. "I need to be busy as much as you do. Difference is, this is the only thing I can do."  
Put like that, I have no argument that can counter him. "I'm sorry, Jeff. I did not mean..."  
"Don't sweat it, Doc," he smiles, reaching up to pat the hand I have gripped his shoulder with. "We'll need plenty of eyes and ears on the comms."  
"Traynor's got it covered." Ash's voice is decisive, carrying clearly into the cockpit as she strides along the narrow companionway from the CIC. As I turn to face her, she reaches out and grips my shoulders tightly. "Liara, you've done enough. More than enough. You can hardly stand up you're so tired. Tomorrow..." she looks down for a second, then locks her dark, fierce gaze to mine, "whatever happens tomorrow, whatever we find back on Earth, you will need your strength. You need to eat, and rest."  
"Do you honestly believe I will be able to sleep, Ash?" I enquire sadly. I'm touched by her concern, but I cannot see myself sleeping through this night.  
"Not without assistance," Ash replies. "Which is why Garrus and Tali are waiting to accompany you to dinner, and then they'll make sure you see Dr. Chakwas for something to help you sleep."  
"Ash, I..."  
"Not listening, Liara," the Spectre cuts me off, firmly but kindly. "You're relieved of duty. Besides, if Shepard sees that I let you get into this state, she'll gut me with a blunt butter knife. I'm supposed to be looking after you." She folds me into a brief hug, then points her thumb back over her shoulder. "Get going, Commander T'Soni. I won't have my XO disobeying me in public."  
I manage a smile at that. "You're learning, Ash." I straighten and offer her a mock salute. "You have the deck, Commander."  
"The XO stands relieved," Ash completes the cadence with a wink, then shoves me gently to start me walking.  
Garrus and Tali succeed in diverting me for a while, and when they finally escort me to Shepard's room via the medbay, Garrus excuses himself as Tali not-so-subtly shoos him away. The quarian comes into the cabin with me, fetching me a glass of water and setting it on the nightstand with the sedative. "I can stay with you, if you like," she offers as I begin to undress. She takes my jacket and hangs it neatly over Shepard's desk chair.  
"I'll be fine," I decline with a smile. "I'll take my medicine and go to sleep, I promise."  
"I know you will. I'm not leaving till you do," Tali chuckles, "but I'm quite happy to sit with you all night if you need me to. I can't imagine how you must be feeling."  
"It's OK, Tali. Once I'm asleep you don't need to stay, but it's sweet of you to offer." I open one of the drawers and fish out one of Shepard's t-shirts, tugging it over my head in deference to Tali's presence, then take my pill and curl up in the bed. Tali drags Shepard's desk chair to the side of the bed and takes my hand as she sits down. "You've been so brave, Liara," the quarian murmurs as she strokes my arm. "It's almost over now. Tomorrow we'll know, once and for all."  
"Do you believe, Tali?" I ask drowsily, the sedative Karin has provided already starting its work.  
"I do," Tali assures me. "If it was anyone but Shepard I'd say you were crazy, but if she made you a promise, Liara, well, I believe there's no force in the galaxy that could stop her from keeping it." She tilts her head to one side. "And she's ruined things for the rest of us in the process; with that as a benchmark, how is any prospective partner ever going to measure up?"  
I manage a faint smile. "But surely Garrus..."  
"Oh, Vakarian, pffft. I'm only using him for his body," Tali chuckles, her confident affection for the turian clear in her ability to joke. "But then, if I can't have Shepard, I guess I'll have to manage." She pauses. "I can't, can I?"  
"Can't what, Tali?"  
"Have Shepard. Are you sure you really want her? You could take Garrus instead, I'm sure he wouldn't mind."  
A sleepy laugh bubbles up. "No, Tali, you can't. She's mine. I'm sorry."  
"Ah well, I'll just have to make do with the King of the Bottle Shooters then." Tali's voice is becoming distant, and I close my eyes, drifting. Just before I drop off, caught in the riptide of sleep, I feel Tali's hand press gently against my cheek. "Rest easy, Liara," Tali's voice whispers. "Sleep well, and no matter happens, we'll be there for you for as long as you need."  
ooooo  
However well-intentioned my friends' efforts are, the sedative is too mild, and my subconscious won't permit me true rest. I wake less than four hours later. Tali has gone. Too warm, itchy, unable to find a comfortable spot, I roam Shepard's bed, stripping her t-shirt and kicking sheets off and dragging them back on in what feels like an endless, futile cycle. Eventually I get up and head to the bathroom to splash water on my face, just to break the pattern.  
Returning to the bed, I see Rachel waiting for me. "Seems like you could do with some company." She lifts the sheets and I slide in beside her, taking her hand as I pull myself in, face to face. We kiss, and I lift my free hand to stroke her cheek.  
"You've been avoiding me," she observes, running her fingers over my temple and back along the ridge of my crest. "Want to tell me why?"  
"I'm afraid," I confess quietly.  
"Of me?"  
"That I'm wrong to have hoped. That we get back, and you really are gone, and this is all I have left."  
Rachel presses a kiss to my forehead. "If I really am gone, Liara, then you will have to let me go sometime. But don't be afraid, sweetheart. What's waiting for you is the future. I am your past."  
"No. No, I can't accept that. I want you to be my future."  
"The future isn't given to us to know, as you so wisely told me." The look in her eyes is kind and understanding, a gentle smile easing my anxiety. "Liara, everything I am is behind you. Now, that's not to say that Rachel Shepard isn't also in your future." She kisses me again, just below my jawline, making me shiver. "But I'm a copy, an echo, an illusion built of memory and grief. And either I remain forever the remembered ideal, or I evaporate in the light of the real thing. But either way, Rachel Shepard will always be with you."  
"l love you."  
"I know." She rolls over to straddle me, pushing me onto my back as she lowers her mouth to mine. The kiss is ardent, possessive and passionate, and I arch up underneath her, desperately wanting to be touched. She takes my hand, guides my fingers down my body and as we stoke my arousal together, she smiles at me and whispers, "Embrace Eternity," and my world dissolves into the euphoria of our shared soul.


	49. Casualties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard

Hackett has stopped by to visit.

The Admiral seems to have de-aged since I last saw him, and the grin on his face is almost boyish. "Shepard," he growls in greeting, "God damn, kid, you have nine lives, don't you?"

"I think I have five left, sir." I try for a joke, but the tone eludes me, coming out flat and awkward. "It's good to see you."

"You too, Commander," Hackett replies amiably. He sits in the chair beside my bed and sighs. "Damn, it's good to take a load off. It's been non-stop for months."

"I can relate, sir."

"I know that, Shepard. You've been pushed further and harder than anyone else, and don't think I don't know or appreciate the measure of your commitment." Hackett smiles in a grandfatherly fashion. "I know I and others put the weight of the galaxy on your shoulders, kid. Turns out you had the shoulders to hold it up."

I shake my head. I'm not in the frame of mind for praise. Forced to dream by being sedated, every time I wake up I expect Liara to be beside me, and every time she's not there, my soul withers a little more. "I don't want to hear about this all being down to me, sir. Due respect, but that's bullshit, and you know it."

"I wouldn't insult your intelligence or integrity, Commander. Lots of people contributed. This victory, like any victory, is due to the uncommon bravery of countless men and women who put others before themselves. Due to a thousand silent sacrifices, alone in the dark where no one will ever know what was done or how. Decisions, actions, acts of unthinking bravery or suicidal defiance, all adding up to that one critical moment."

I nod fiercely. I know Hackett gets it. "I remember on Rannoch, we found this one guy from Admiral Koris's ship. His name was Dorn'Hazt, a ship's mechanic who drew pursuit away from other quarian civilians. He knew it was a suicide proposition, he had no training, no chance of getting away, but he did it anyway, gave his life to protect his shipmates. People I then sacrificed to save the Admiral." The last admission is like ashes in my mouth.

"That kind of call has been too frequent, these past few months, starting with the Batarians in the Bahak system. Too many people have been forced to do things that have broken them," Hackett observes kindly. "But the kind of courage displayed by people like Dorn'Hazt is the reason we're having this conversation."

I think of the others I know have sacrificed their lives, my friends and comrades; Mordin, Kal'Reegar, Victus, Thane, Legion, EDI. Kaidan. Anderson. "They're the real heroes, sir. Not me."

"Don't sell yourself too short, Shepard," Hackett rebukes me gently. "Your physical courage may be conditioned, but it took a lot of guts to step up and lead. I dumped on you from a great height, and you and your crew delivered. It's not an exaggeration to say we couldn't have done it without you. And your mother told me about the choice you had to make up there. I know she feels you would have benefitted from orders." He regards me soberly for a long moment. "I think I know you well enough to know that you'd have made your own choice regardless of anything I ordered you to do. But it might help you to know two things. If I'd known, I would still have left the call to you, because I know you'd do the right thing. And in your position, I'd have made the same call as you. You did good, Commander."

I nod reluctantly. "From you, that means a lot, sir, thank you. But please, if you can avoid it, I don't want to be "the hero". I fucked up nearly as often as I got it right. I don't deserve to be picked out over and above others who have given as much or more. This wasn't a mission, it was a war. You say it couldn't have been done without me, and I'll own that I made a contribution, but I think it's important that you know that we also specifically couldn't have done it without... without Liara. Without her research skills, the Crucible plans would have stayed buried. Without the Broker network, you would never have got the resources. And without her support, I'd never have got to the controls of the catalyst. I went where she pointed, with my team to back me, and we got this done. Not me. Us, together. I'm not some kind of damn superhero."

"Dr. T'Soni's the Shadow Broker?" Hacket arches his eyebrows. "That explains a great deal. You're right, Shepard, and it'll be noted. She'll get the recognition she deserves, I'll make sure of it. As for your status, I might not be able to do much about that. A lot of people will, rightly, feel that they owe you their lives, and they'll want to thank you. But I'll try and shield you from it as long as I can." His omni-tool blinks at him, and he heaves a sigh. "I guess that's my downtime over." He taps the receive interface. "Hackett, go."

"Sorry to bother you, Admiral, but you're needed – Primarch Victus says it's urgent."

"When is it not?" Hackett grumbles. "All right, Friedrich, I'm on my way." He levers himself to his feet. "Take it easy, Shepard. I'll be back to see you soon."

"No rush, sir," I sigh, "I get the impression Miranda's not going to let me out of her sight any time in the near future."

Hackett chuckles. "If I were you I'd play invalid as long as I could, Shepard. Kick back and catch up some of your rack time."

"I will, sir. Oh, and please, tell Major Friedrich I said he's still a jackass."

Hackett barks with laughter. "I will, Shepard. I will." Setting his cap just so on his head, he tips me a nod and steps from the room. Miranda re-enters with a smile for me.

"Hackett seems pleased to have you back," she remarks.

"Gives him a scapegoat," I mutter uncharitably. "Someone else to pin the damn medals on."

Miranda chuckles. "If they give you any more medals, Shep, you'll end up walking lopsided."

"Hah." She helps me shift to a more comfortable sitting position. "Thanks. Any word today?"

"Not so far, no. I'm sorry." It's a daily ritual for us now. I ask about the Normandy, she tells me she's heard nothing. "There are a couple more people queuing up to see you, if you're feeling up to it."

"I suppose it depends who it is," I reply morosely. "I'm really not in the mood for strangers."

"No strangers, just some of the stir-crazy mix of outcasts, renegades and troubleshooting space divas that comprise your crewmates," Miranda chuckles. "Present company very definitely included."

The memory of a happier time lifts me a little, and I share her grin. "That was a good night. Jesus, were you ever drunk."

"I'd forgotten just how bloody bombproof I made your metabolism," Miranda shudders at the recollection. "I've still got no idea how we got back to your apartment."

"Liara came and got us," I admit. "She floated you down the Silversun Strip in a biotic field, and you laughed hysterically the whole way. Quite the spectacle you were, especially in that dress."

Miranda slaps my shoulder in rebuke. "You arse," she laughs fondly. "I'll get the others. It'll do you good."

**ooooo**

It's good to see Jack and Samara; good to see friends who have come through the fire, but somehow, their presence only serves to reinforce the Normandy's absence. I am incredibly proud of Jack, and deeply fond of Samara, but try as they might, their company is not enough to halt the downward spiral of my mood from my conversation with Hackett. Eventually, both of them take the hint and leave me alone to brood. Mom calls down from the Orizaba shortly afterward, but I don't pick up; she knows me too well, is too attuned to my moods, and I'll end up saying more than I can bear to.

Miranda's assistant, Price, comes in to check my readings and change the dressings on a couple of my surgical incisions. Warned by the sulky glower I can feel pulling my mouth down, he doesn't offer any platitudes or chirpy chatter as he normally does, working with quick efficiency and leaving me to my sullen discontent. I look out of the window, studying the fallen Reaper that soars above the shattered skyline, a silent monument to a victory that somehow feels impossibly hollow. Try as I might, I can take no comfort from the idea that the Reapers are truly defeated, that the galaxy has been saved, because the one person I so desperately wanted to save the galaxy for is not here to share it with me.

_What if she never comes back?_

What am I going to do if the Normandy never comes home? Or if the ship comes home without her? What if she's gone? Fear boils in my stomach at the idea - I can't even bring myself to think the word 'dead'. Liara holds the other half of my soul; without her, I'm broken, incomplete. I feel like I should know if she was gone; I would be able to feel it, wouldn't I? This bonding thing has to be good for that, right? Closing my eyes, I try to focus on the part of my mind that houses my awareness of Liara. I can feel her there, a sense of deep love and abounding compassion, the distilled essence of her soul. Concentrating, I try to draw on it, and suddenly, I'm plunged into a memory,  _not my own_...

_I'm alone._

_She's not coming back. My Rachel... my Rachel is gone. Huddled on my tiny cot in a soulless guest cubicle on Arcturus Station, tears run unchecked down my face as I shake with the force of my sobs. I don't want this._

_I don't want to be here._

_I want what I cannot have; to be back aboard the Normandy, her arms around me, the warmth of her body at my back as her hands caress me. I want the supple smoothness of her skin sliding against mine, want to comb my fingers through the soft strands of her vibrant hair, want to see the look of adoration in her emerald eyes as she writhes in pleasure beneath my touch. I want the silken, heated caress of her lips on my body, the sound of my name falling seductively from those same lips, but most of all I want to be wrapped in her mind, surrounded by her love for me, able to freely share the depth of my feelings. My lover, my friend, my heart; she has become everything to me in such a short space of time._

_And she has been taken from me, forever. I will never know her touch again, on my mind or my body. Pain clenches my body into a ball at the thought, and I am barely aware of my despairing scream as my world shatters once more into mindless grief..._

"Shep? Shepard!"

I open my eyes with a gasp, breathless with shock. God, it was so vivid, so real, like I was right there in Liara's mind. Miranda barges into the room behind her shout, hurrying to my side, face etched with concern as I suck in a deep, shuddering breath.

"Shep, what is it? You screamed. Are you feeling all right?"

I nod slowly. "Woah. Yeah, just - I had no idea it did that."

Miranda frowns at me in worried confusion, starting up her omni-tool to run a scan. "You're not coming through."

"Sorry, Miri." I hug myself, rubbing my hands up and down my biceps, trying to collect my scattered thoughts. "I... Liara bonded with me just before the battle in London. The process involves a memory exchange, and so I have this little corner of my brain where I can feel Liara's... presence, if you like. I was focusing on it, trying to understand it, and then I was sharing one of her memories, like it was mine. She...God, I..." I trail off, looking away from Miri as tears sting my eyes. "I'm scared, Miri," I choke out. "I don't know what I'll do if she... if I've lost her. I can't... I don't think I can do this..."

Miranda leans in and wraps me up in a hug. "Don't give up hope, Shep," she says firmly. "If anyone can get the Normandy home, it's Liara, Garrus, Joker and Tali." She pauses for thought, her offered comfort and optimism bolstering me a little. "And probably Williams as well, though I don't know her very well." She smiles faintly. "Although, I don't think she likes me very much. She'd get on well with Jack in that regard."

I manage a small smile in return. "Ash doesn't know you. She only sees the Cerberus Ice Queen, not the real you."

"Cerberus Ice Queen was working well for me for a long time," Miranda reflects humorously, "until you came along and ruined my reputation. Honestly, I..." she cuts off as her omni-tool beeps. "Hang on, I need to take this." She steps out of the room for a few minutes, and when she returns her expression is grim. Fear clamps around my throat, and she sees it right away, raising her palms in a calming gesture. "It's OK, Shep, it wasn't about the Normandy, but," she sighs heavily, "it was bad news."

"What's up?"

"I don't want to burden you further," she hedges.

"Shit, Miri, it's not like I could feel any worse. "

Miranda nods reluctantly. "It's Jacob. It's not good."

"What happened?"

"That was Brynn." Tears are sparkling in Miranda's pale blue eyes. "They found him under a pile of husks at the gates of one of the internment camps. He'd been trying to get the prisoners away from the battle zone, helping people to safety." She shakes her head with bitter humour. "Stupid bastard - he always did want to be a hero. He never did hesitate to do the right thing."

"I'm sorry, Miranda." I reach out and squeeze her shoulder. Jacob was a good man, a good soldier, one of Miranda's very few friends and confidantes; to have lost him so close to the end, when he had so much to live for... "Ah, fuck," I growl, with feeling. Not very eloquent, but it captures what I'm feeling perfectly. We sit in oppressive silence for a while, until I can't stand it any longer. "What about other people – any word on Javik?"

Miri shakes her head. "No. The last Prothean seems to have vanished into thin air. Lieutenant Cortez called to say he'll be in to see you as soon as he gets down time. Oh, and there was word on the Council this morning. Councilor Tevos and Councilor Sparatus survived, but Councilor Valern was killed. Beyond that, I haven't heard much." Miranda's expression is reflective. "I don't know that I really expect to, any more. It's been long enough that..." she catches herself abruptly, glancing guiltily at me.

"Long enough that those who could have managed to get in touch, would have?" I ask harshly, angered suddenly by the inference that she believes the Normandy to be gone too.

The compassion in Miranda's gaze makes me look away, and I feel rather than see her move closer. "Shep, I'm sorry, I spoke without thinking. I..."

"Just don't, Miranda, OK? I don't want to talk about it. Please... just put me back out, will you? I don't want to think." I don't want to dream either, but at least in there there's a chance I might see Li.

Miranda sighs in exasperation, but she knows me too well to push further right now. "All right, Shep. Sweet dreams."


	50. This Childlike Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liara

As we cross the imaginary boundary that defines the outer limits of the Sol system, the group of misfits and wanderers I have come to think of as family begins to assemble around Joker's station. Ash is there before me, fidgeting aimlessly in EDI's seat. Garrus and Tali come in together, and Tali immediately burrows under my arm to hug me. James and Sam hover near the airlock, as though unwilling to intrude as we five, those of us who first stood with Shepard against Saren, bring her ship home. It feels like a lifetime ago; so much has changed, so much has passed. We have learned so much, lost so much, but we still have each other.

I feel hollow; sick with anticipation and worry. My fingers knot in the fabric of Tali's suit, a physical anchor to the quarian's support. My mind will not focus, my thoughts swinging wildy back and forth between how sick and nervous I feel and the memory of having stood at this terrible crossroads once before.  _Sitting in the escape pod, eyes glued to the search and rescue telemetry readout_... Last time I dared to hope. Last time my hope was smashed against the immutable reality of death. Goddess, could the universe be so cruel as to do that to me again? So cruel as to do that to Shepard again?  _Of course it could_ , my fear whispers, insidious.

Joker runs a scan of the system, and his eyebrows climb. "No Reaper signatures. Alliance, Turian, Asari - whoah, there's my beautiful blue bitch with the big gun."

"The Destiny Ascension?" I query in surprise.

"Yeah, prissy name, but man was she ever a glorious sight in that battle, pounding away at those bastards. Matriarch Lidanya's got a pair, uh... so to speak." Joker frowns as he checks his data. "OK, no threat detected. There are hundreds of Reaper ships out there, but they're all inactive. Looks like we..." he takes a deep, reverential breath, then whispers, "holy hell, we won!"

"Recheck and confirm," Ash orders crisply. "We're taking no chances."

"Aye aye." Joker runs the scan again. "Confirmed. All the Reapers have gone bye-bye."

No more Reapers. It seems incredible, but... "Goddess. We did it."

James and Garrus bump fists, grinning broadly. "All right!" James crows.

The comm. traffic alert begins to blink on Joker's interface, and he gestures to Ash. She nods, and he taps the blinking light, allowing a male human voice to fill the cockpit. "Incoming vessel, this is the Systems Alliance Cruiser Shenyang, please identify and validate IFF transmission. We are reading you as SSV Normandy."

"Shenyang, confirmed, this is the Systems Alliance Frigate Normandy, attached to Special Tactics and Reconnaissance," Ash responds. "This is Lieutenant Commander Ashley Williams, Systems Alliance Navy, acting CO. Sending my ident code and biometric data, and ship's validation data packet for confirmation."

"Copy that, transmission received. Standby, please, Commander Williams." The Shenyang's comms officer is a stickler for protocol, it seems; tense minutes elapse before the channel reopens.

"Normandy, this is Shenyang. Welcome home. Admiral Hackett's compliments; you are to proceed to make dock with the SSV Aconcagua in Mars orbit. Commander Williams, the Admiral would like to see you and a Dr. Liara T'Soni, if present, as soon as you dock."

Ash hesitates for a moment, shooting me a quick, pained glance, then replies, "Acknowledged, Shenyang, it's good to be home. Thanks for the welcome. Please confirm to the Admiral that Dr. T'Soni and I will present ourselves as soon as possible."

"Wilco, Commander. Godspeed. Shenyang out."

"Why would Hackett want to see me?" I wonder aloud. Looking round, I see Vega's grim expression as he watches Ash, and Traynor biting her lip. Joker hangs his head, and Ash looks down at the interface for a long moment before she answers me.

"Normally, if someone's commanding officer wants to speak to their next of kin it's not good news." She moves to my side and hugs me. "I'm sorry, Liara."

I close my eyes and fight down the surge of grief that tries to rise inside me. Not until I have proof, I remind myself, not until I have seen Rachel's body will I believe that she is lost to me. It is the last anchor I have to cling to, and for the moment, it is holding. "Nothing about our situation is normal, Ash. And why would I be Shepard's next of kin?"

Ash looks a little surprised at this. "She didn't tell you? She updated her personnel records just before we left the Citadel that last time. Fixed her biometric data after that clone fritzed with it, and added you as her legal partner. She wanted there to be a record of your relationship, something formal that couldn't be ignored, so you would have the right to..." Ash trails off, grimacing.

Tears sting my eyes at the revelation. She didn't tell me. Maybe she was intending to and never found the time - Goddess knows we didn't talk much, those last nights. Whatever the reason, if it means I will not find out what happened second-hand, that is a small mercy. "No, she didn't tell me," I answer Ash's question.

"I'm sure she was planning to," Ash says awkwardly. "Anyway, come on, we should get ready."

**ooooo**

Ash hovers protectively over me as we leave the Normandy for the Aconcagua, but there is no real need. Hackett's administrative officer, Major Friedrich, meets us directly at the airlock and escorts us to a private briefing room.

Hackett is waiting, and he looks years younger than he did the last time I saw him. Some of his burdens have been laid down with our victory, and he smiles broadly as we enter. "Thanks, Markus," he dismisses Friedrich. "Ah ah, no need to stand on ceremony," he rebukes Ash, seizing her hand to shake it vigorously as she tries to salute him. "Hell of a job, Commander, bringing the Normandy home."

"Thank you, sir. Commander Shepard would kick my ass if she thought I'd let anything happen to that bird, sir."

Hackett's grin widens. "Williams, I swear, you're about as subtle as a sledgehammer, a trait you share with your grandfather, under whom I had the privilege of serving many years ago."

Ash flicks a meaningful glance toward me. "Thank you, sir. It's just...we owe the Doc everything, sir. I'd be a poor friend if I didn't try to help her out."

"We do indeed owe the Doc everything," Hackett agrees. "Liara - may I call you Liara?"

"Please do, Admiral."

"Steven," he corrects me warmly. "It's been made abundantly clear to me that without your diligent research and assistance with credits, materiel, and supplies, we could never have hoped to win this. Both you and Commander Shepard were tireless in your pursuit of this victory, and it's only fair that your part in it be acknowledged."

"That's kind of you, Steven, but I don't need any formal thanks, or any reward. The galaxy is safe, which we all worked so hard to achieve, and there is... only one thing in this universe that I want." I try to form the question, but the words won't come.  _Where is she? What happened to her? Did you find her, on the Citadel?_   _She would have been on the Citadel. Joker heard her there_.

"Well, regardless of what you need, in due time I'm sure the galactic community will find a way to thank you. As to what you want," he smiles again, "I think I can help with that. This is classified so high that even I'm not supposed to tell anyone, but if I can't trust a Spectre and the Shadow Broker with a secret, it's a pretty shoddy galaxy you've saved."

He's being oblique in that irritating fashion humans so delight in, and I do not understand what he's getting at, but Ash's eyes go very wide. "You're shitting me!" she exclaims, followed by a belated, "Sir!"

"I shit you not, LC," Hackett chuckles, then he turns to me. "I'm sorry, Liara, forgive me a moment of levity. I have good news for you. We recovered Commander Shepard alive from the Citadel. She was very badly wounded, and her cybernetics had shut down, but as luck would have it, there was a specialist available to treat her. She's out of danger, although I believe she still has a long way to go to recover completely."

I don't believe it. For a moment, I can't. This is exactly what I have been hoping, wishing, praying for, and to have it dropped into my lap so simply...

The room spins, and I take a step back and sit down hard as my knees buckle. Fortunately, Ash has a hold of my elbow and guides my fall into a chair behind me. "It's really true?" I hear myself ask from very far away, shock and disbelief ringing in my tone. "She's really...?"

"It's true," Hackett confirms with a smile. "I visited her yesterday."

"Is she...?" I don't know what I want to ask.  _Is she all right? Does she remember everything? How badly was she injured?_ Abruptly, I remember Garrus carrying her into the medbay after the mission to save the fuel refinery on Cyone, weeks ago. She'd been shot in the abdomen...  _unconscious, scarlet blood running freely down Garrus' arms, dripping onto the floor. Her face chalk white, her expression hatefully slack. As Garrus lays her out on the bed, I see the front of her armour is slick and shiny with blood. The sight roots me to the spot; nausea boils in my stomach and I feel hot and cold at the same time, light-headed. I have seen Rachel injured before, but never seriously. My chest tightens with the beginnings of panic. Chakwas looks up from her diagnosis and scowls. "Garrus, get Liara out of here, now!"_

"She's going to be fine, Liara," Hackett says firmly, snapping me back to the present.

"Goddess, thank you..." I whisper, burying my face in my hands as my tears flow, tears of relief and unalloyed joy, tears of anguish. I'm shivering uncontrollably, overwhelmed by the rioting conflict of my emotions. I want to laugh and cry and scream, all at once.  _Oh,_   _Rachel, thank the Goddess._

Arms wrap around my shoulders, human hair tickles my face, and I realise Ash is hugging me. I look up to see possibly the broadest smile I have ever seen on Williams' face. My own grin ignites in response and the two of us are giggling like children in seconds.

Hackett bears the emotional outburst with good grace, waiting patiently for us to recover our breath. "Commander, you can inform the Normandy's crew, on condition of radio silence. Liara, as Shepard's next of kin you are, of course, permitted access to her at the hospital. I'll arrange transport down as soon as possible."

"Dr. Chakwas should come with me," I suggest immediately. If Rachel's implants are causing trouble, Karin's experience will be needed, and I want someone she knows there with her.

"Indeed she should," Hackett agrees with a smile. "I won't keep you, Liara, you have places to be. Major Friedrich will see to your needs. Commander Williams, stick around - I'd like to hear what the Normandy's been up to."

After surprising Hackett with a fierce hug and a kiss, I practically run back to the Normandy, charging through the CIC, across the crew deck and bursting breathlessly through the door of the medbay to grab Karin in a victorious bear hug.

"Liara!" the doctor splutters, "what on Earth..."

"She's alive, Karin! Rachel's alive!" I half-laugh, half-sob, tears still streaming down my face.

Chakwas steps back and looks at me with a fond smile, then embraces me again. "Oh, Liara, that's wonderful news. God knows it's what I've been praying for. I take it I'm needed to attend?"

"Please, Karin, would you? I would like that. She's still recovering, and you know so much about her implants. I know she'll feel better with you there rather than strangers." I'm babbling, a deep, delirious joy starting to bubble in the pit of my stomach. I'm beginning to feel somewhat light-headed.

Chakwas grins. "Oh, I wouldn't bet on that. The good Lord only knows what people who don't know her would let her get away with." She picks up her field bag, always to hand at her desk, and gestures to the door. "Lead on, Liara. Let's go see our wounded hero."


	51. I Was Lost Without You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liara

Major Friedrich is kindness personified as he escorts Dr. Chakwas and I to the shuttle waiting to take us to Earth, and within an hour of leaving Hackett's office I am walking with Karin through the corridors of a Systems Alliance hospital complex on the outskirts of London. My nerves are ablaze with anticipation, and I fidget and twitch all the way from the docking bay to the doors of the facility.

Chakwas has been here before, and after checking briefly with the security station, leads me unerringly through a warren of damaged corridors to a reasonably unscathed, spartan waiting room. The sole occupant is a human woman in an Alliance dress uniform, staring out of the window at the ruined street beyond.

At the sound of our footsteps, she turns towards us, yet still seems to be staring through us, and a vague memory flash grants me recognition. Rear Admiral Hannah Shepard looks nothing like her daughter. She is a short, petite woman with a scattering of black through her close-cropped silver and iron hair, steel grey eyes and a thin, sharp face. Rachel must favour her long-deceased father. The admiral's expression is one of deep concern, and in spite of Hackett's assurances I am suddenly given reason to doubt, reason to fear.

Karin sees me tense, and squeezes my shoulder in quick reassurance. The doctor steps forward, confident and calm. "Excuse me, ma'am. I was told I could find the attending physician for Commander Shepard here?"

Admiral Shepard snaps out of her thoughts, gaze skimming over Karin's uniform in a swift scan, face hardening into a stern mask of command. "Lieutenant Price was called away to deal with an emergency, and I haven't seen Dr. Lawson yet this morning. Can I help you, Major?"

"I'm Dr. Chakwas, Chief Medical Officer, SSV Normandy." She smiles brightly. "As Commander Shepard is one of my most frequent patients, I came to offer my services."

At the name of our ship, our home, Admiral Shepard's face lights with relief and incredulity. "The Normandy? She's back?"

"Just less than two hours ago, Admiral. We came as fast as we could. If I know the Commander, she's been worrying about her boat and her crew since she regained consciousness."

"Oh, thank God." The Admiral closes her eyes for a moment, then lets out a long sigh, tension draining visibly from every line of her body. When she opens her eyes, she is an Admiral in visage no longer, simply a worried mother, and she smiles warmly at Chakwas. "You obviously know Rachel well, but I'll admit I found her reaction to the news the Normandy was missing to be disproportionate. I was beginning to worry that if the ship never came back, she'd never recover. That I'd lose her again, in some indefinable way." She offers a hand to the doctor. "Pleasure to meet you, finally, Doctor. I'm Hannah Shepard. I remember Rachel telling me about you - thank you for looking after my little girl for me all these years."

"Delighted to meet you, Admiral, and please, there's no need to thank me. Your daughter's a remarkable woman, one whom it's my great privilege to call my friend. Now, I should find this Dr. Lawson, I suppose."

"Right behind you, Dr. Chakwas." Miranda's unmistakeable voice announces her as she steps into the room, dressed impeccably in an Alliance medical uniform. Chakwas, to her credit, does not bat an eyelid at the former Cerberus operative's deception, and sweeps the younger woman into a tight hug.

"Oh, Miranda, dear, it's so good to see you safe."

"You too, Karin," Miranda returns, disengaging gently from the doctor's grip and approaching me. "And you, Liara." She hugs me, and I feel a flood of affection and gratitude. Miranda is responsible for saving Rachel, I am suddenly sure; her expertise with the cybernetics and nanites she herself installed must have made Shepard's recovery possible. I squeeze her tightly, feeling tears sting my eyes.

"Miranda, I... it's good to see you. Thank you... thank you so much..."  _for saving her_   _again. And for saving me along with her_. "I... there are no words..."

"Unnecessary," Miranda brushes a kiss across my cheek as she sets me back. "After everything Shepard has done for me and Ori, this was the least I could do." She smiles at me. "It's good that you're back, both of you," she waves a hand to encompass Chakwas in her comments. "She's been deteriorating emotionally since she woke up. And frankly, I could use the help with handling her; she's never the most co-operative of invalids." Miranda smiles wryly. "Even when she's unconscious."

Chakwas grins openly. "Sounds like someone's on the road to full recovery. If she's sulking about being bed bound, that's usually a good sign. But what on Earth happened to you?" She gestures to the angry scar running slantwise across Miranda's face.

Miranda's gaze flicks almost imperceptibly to Admiral Shepard and back. "I was in a crash after the Crucible fired. I was lucky to get away with just this as a souvenir." Not the whole truth, obviously, but she has to keep her cover.

I feel myself fidgeting, impatient with the preamble. I am concerned for Miranda's health too, but to be so close to Rachel, and still separated, is a special kind of torture. The need to see her burns in my chest; the need to touch her is making my hands ache. Chakwas sees me, and her grin widens. "All right, Liara, I think you've suffered long enough. If Miranda thinks Shepard is up to visitors..."

"Well, she's sleeping right now, sedated, but she should wake up shortly..." Miranda starts to explain, but quite suddenly, my perception of Shepard, tucked away in the corner of my mind, pulses with quick energy. Excitement steals my attention. I close my eyes, concentrating, and... I can  _feel_  her, wakened in the next room, barely fifteen metres from where I'm standing. Reaching out toward her with my thoughts, I tentatively call her name.  _Rachel? Can you hear me?_

The bond pulses again, stronger this time, carrying a faint sense of confusion and desperate hope.  _Rachel_ , I call again,  _I'm here. I'm right outside. I'm coming for you, my love_.

"Liara?" Karin shakes me, and I open my eyes, gasping. "Are you all right, my dear? What..."  
"She's awake," I tell the doctor as I turn to start for the door, everything else in the universe forgotten, unimportant. This moment, now, is the only thing that matters.

Before I even get halfway across the room, watched in stupefied shock by Miranda, Karin and the Admiral, the door opens from the inside. Not daring to breathe, I blink back tears as Rachel shuffles slowly into view, leaning heavily on the doorframe for support. Her eyes, brimming with her aching, fearful hope, lock onto me with laser precision, and her mouth opens. No sound comes, but I recognise the word.  _Liara_.

My control shatters. A sob tears from my throat, a mix of joy, relief and aching pain, and I throw myself forward, catching her in my arms as she takes a clumsy step beyond the support of the door and her legs give out. I go down with her, supporting her, letting my armoured knees take the brunt of the impact, cushioning the shock as her arms lock around my neck. I close the embrace, wrapping my arms around her waist, and drop my barriers, pulling her into a deep, all-consuming meld as our mouths meet in a scalding kiss.

Love, hope, faith; anguish, fear, loneliness. Triumph. Relief. Desire.  _Home._  All these and more swirl tempestuously through our shared soul, a maelstrom of furious emotion punctuated by occasional clear thoughts.

_Thought I'd lost you. Didn't know what I was going to do._

_You're not dead. I really thought you might be dead._

_It's over. It's finally over..._

_I can't live without you..._

_So good to hold you, touch you..._

_You mean everything to me..._

_I'm nothing without you..._

_We can be together, finally... nothing can separate us any longer._

_You're so beautiful, love._

_I love you..._

_I love you... Promise me you won't ever leave me._

_I promise._

_I promise too..._

A gentle but firm shake to my shoulder brings me back to reality, and I suck in a gasping, tortured breath as I pull back from the meld. Rachel has buried her face in my neck, her body trembling against me. Miranda withdraws her hand from my shoulder, her own face wet with tears. "Liara, she's not fit enough to be up," our friend explains tenderly. "Can you lift her back to bed? You can stay with her, it's OK."

I nod. Pushing to my feet, I slide my hand down Rachel's back and legs, hooking my arm behind her knees and lifting her easily. Looking round, I see Karin standing with her fingers pressed to her mouth, eyes bright with unshed tears, and Miranda's smile for us is luminous.

"Go on, Liara," she encourages me. "She's been waiting for you."

I hesitate a moment longer, swinging around to meet the gaze of Hannah Shepard. Rachel's mother looks stunned. There is no recognition in her gaze as her eyes meet mine; she has no idea who I am or what I am doing here, let alone why her daughter has reacted this way to my presence. It seems Rachel has not told her about us. Why, I cannot imagine, but I cannot just ignore her. "Admiral Shepard," I say softly, "with your permission?"

Hannah Shepard looks into my eyes for a long, long moment, then she nods, a smile turning the corners of her mouth up and stripping her face of its sternness. "Of course," she assents. "Rachel clearly needs you."

As I need her. "Thank you," I whisper. Cradling Rachel closer, I carry her back into her room, laying her down on the bed and climbing up beside her.

Rachel's body heaves beside mine, and a deep, wrenching sob tears from her. "Oh God, Liara," she gasps, "I was beginning to b-believe I'd lost you."

The irony is not lost on me, but right now it is the least of my cares. Rachel is alive, in my arms, and she is hurting. It is a hurt that I can soothe. "Shh, Rachel, it's alright. I am here. You kept your promise. You came back to me. You can let go now. I've got you."

Rachel surrenders to her emotions, and I hold her as she cries, shuddering under the force of the sobs that rack her. Eventually, she quiets, and I raise my head to look at her. "Better?" I enquire softly, taking in the brilliant sheen of tears in her eyes, the tracks of her sorrow across her face. I use my thumb to wipe her cheek, and she traps my hand against her face.

"I'm so sorry, Li."

"There's nothing you have to apologise to me for. You did what was necessary, and you couldn't have done otherwise. There will be time to talk it over later, but right now, all I care about is that you are here, with me." I kiss her again. "I love you."

Her smile lights the room like sunrise. "I love you too, Liara." She keeps a hold of my hand as I help her sit up. "So, the Normandy's back?"

"With everyone accounted for. EDI had the worst of it; she shut down for a while, but Tali's making some progress with repairs." Shepard's gaze clouds, and she looks away.

"I know about EDI. And about the geth."

"The geth?" I tilt her face back toward me, making her look at me.

"The geth are gone, Liara." Shepard's eyes are haunted with guilt. "That was the choice I had to make. To save all organic life, I had to destroy all synthetic life. There wasn't... there wasn't enough time to think, and I was dying on my feet. I... I did the best I could, but I c-couldn't save them all."

My heart clenches in my chest at the pain in Shepard's voice. Never have I heard her so bereft, so wounded. "Oh Rachel. I can't imagine how hard that must have been, but I believe that you would make the best decision you could, and that you would own that decision afterwards. Synthetic life is created by organic life. To have both, you must have organic life first and foremost. And that which is built, can be rebuilt."

Shepard smiles sadly at that and hugs me close. "You sound just like her."

"Like who?"

"The clone... or copy, I guess... of you that's been running through my head. While I was in a coma. Some side-effect of your gift before the battle. That's exactly what she said about it."

I stare at her, astonished. I had thought her manifestation in my mind to be a symptom of grief, my subconscious using our bond to help to process my feelings, but it seems that I was not the only one affected.

"Liara? You there?" Shepard asks, and I shake myself.

"I had a similar visitation - all the time we were gone, you were with me." I take her hand in both of mine. It is time to confess. "Rachel, I must confess something to you about that gift. I was... not completely honest with you about what it entailed."

"You helped me get through the trauma, helped me fight my way back to life," Rachel tells me sincerely. "I would still be lost in my guilt if you hadn't been there to guide me. Your gift saved me, Li." She stretches out her free hand to rest it against my cheek. "I really don't give a damn how you did it."

"Please, Rachel, you need to hear this. It is important." Goddess, her complete faith in me is making this harder. She nods, but does not remove her hand, and I lean into her caress, solace against my guilt. "I was so terrified of losing you again. I... I wanted to be able to hold onto a part of you, to make sure I would never be without you, so I... I..." Tears sting my eyes, and I drop my gaze. I cannot meet her trusting eyes. I am so ashamed of abusing her faith in me so.

There is a rustle of sheets, and Shepard is suddenly leaning in close, her forehead pressed against mine. "Hey, don't cry," she murmurs. "It's OK, Li, whatever you think you did, you can tell me."

"It was a bonding meld," I blurt out. "I... I bonded with you. I should have asked your permission, but I hadn't really planned it, it was just I panicked and..."

Shepard cuts me off by kissing me, a quick, soft peck that ends my nervous stammering. "I know that," she says gently. "I knew before you did it."

I stare at her incredulously. "But..."

"It's OK, Li," she repeats. "You told me enough to let me figure it out. I know why you did it, and I know you feel bad, which is why I thought I'd let you confess, but you needed it. I remember we talked about it before, and I was all for it. So you certainly made a mistake in not asking me directly - I couldn't figure out why you wouldn't just ask - but big deal. I could have stopped you if I'd wanted." She shrugs. "I chose not to. The bond is something we both wanted." She cups my face with her hands. "I want to be part of you, I want you to be part of me. You mean everything to me; I want to share everything I am, everything I have, with you. And I'll say it again; without you in my mind, pushing me, encouraging me... I don't think I'd have woken up. You saved my life. You helped me keep my promise. And you've helped me come to terms with the choices I had to make. So if you need to hear it, I forgive you, but Liara, sweetheart, as far as I'm concerned, there's nothing to forgive."

I look into her eyes again, and her trust, her love, is unwavering. She strokes my cheek tenderly. "Oh, Rachel, I love you so much," I whisper, tears welling up again.

Shepard wordlessly settles back on the bed, and spreads her arms wide. I curl up next to her, and she wraps me up in a gentle hug. Her lips press against my crest, and I open my mind. "Embrace eternity."

Perfect happiness engulfs me.


	52. Liquid Courage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard

I wake in the dark, trapped. Flailing, I try to break free of whatever's pinning me down, but I haven't got the strength. Panic starts to flutter in my chest; I can't get clear. Dragging in a breath, I hear an alarm begin to wail - my HUD?

A dim, golden light switches on, and Miranda looms out of the shadows. "Easy, Shep, just relax. You're fine." She smiles broadly. "More than fine, actually." She nods to my side.

Liara's here.

_Waking, I look hopefully around the room for my lover; maybe this time she'll be here. But I'm alone, and my disappointment flares into grief as I sit up. Reaching up to rub at the back of my neck, ease the crick from the brick-hard hospital pillow, I freeze as I hear Liara's voice in my mind._

Rachel? Can you hear me?

Yes. Yes! _I try to think it back, want her to hear me, but without being melded I haven't the first idea how to make it happen. "Yes," I say aloud, still not sure if I'm dreaming, unable to stem the rising tide of hope that maybe this time,_ this time _, this is what I want it to be, coupled with the raging fear that I am imagining this, hallucinating, torturing myself. "Liara?"_

 _Her voice calls again, stronger this time._ Rachel, I'm here. I'm right outside. I'm coming for you, my love.

_She's here? On Earth? I can't believe it. My heart is hammering against my ribs as I swing myself to the edge of the bed and try to stand. My knees buckle and I have to grab the bed to stay upright, but I have to know. I have to see. Please God, please, don't let this be my mind playing tricks. Please. I stagger to the door, breathing ragged and pulse racing from even this slight exertion, and pull it open, working my way to the doorframe with bloody-minded determination, and as soon as I have my balance I look up, straight into Liara's tear-burnished, beautiful blue eyes. There are others in the room, I'm dimly aware, but I can't see who, nor do I care to. My tongue welds to the roof of my mouth in shock. Liara... she's alive, she's here! I try to call her, but the sound won't come, and I can only mouth her name as she shifts her weight to start moving. Primal triumph howls through my entire being, and I forget myself, taking a step toward her as she throws herself forward. My knees give way, but as I fall, she catches me, body and mind, sweeping me into her precious embrace._

Now, Liara's lying beside me, or rather on me, one arm draped across my chest, one leg pinning me across the thighs, face buried in the hollow of my neck, her steady, soft breathing alternating warm and cool against my skin. I reach out to stroke her cheek, but she doesn't stir. "You both fell asleep, and I gave her a mild sedative shot," Miranda says quietly. "She was on the brink of collapse when she got here, her colour was awful and her blood pressure was way down. No doubt she's been pushing herself too hard for too long." She grins at me. "Just like someone else I know."

I grin back, unable to stopper the joy that having Liara sleeping in my arms evokes. What happened earlier has taken on a surreal quality; I'm still not sure I quite believe it, but the warmth and weight of Liara's body in my bed, the familiar texture of her crests rubbing against my jaw, the soft folds of her neck beneath my fingers are irrefutable evidence that she is with me.  _She's home. I'm home._  "Thanks, Miri. And hey, listen, I'm sorry I was such a bitch yesterday. You didn't deserve to have me take my pissy mood out on you."

"It's OK, Shep. After what I saw earlier, I understand better just how badly being separated from Liara was affecting you. I had wondered if it was something to do with that - that's why I asked Aethyta to look in on you last night. I thought you might be able to open up to her..."

_"Well, if it ain't the Saviour of the Galaxy." A dry, throaty voice, sexy as all hell, rasps a greeting from the doorway. "Lawson said you were grumpy as a krogan without a shotgun, but I reckon I have a cure for that. Thirsty, kid?"_

_"Aethyta, you have no idea." I grin in genuine delight as the galaxy's most kick-ass matriarch advances into my room, hefting an unlabeled bottle of amber liquid in one hand._

_"Think Lawson would get her panties in a bunch if you were to slake that thirst?"_

_"Probably. And given how uncomfortable that would be for her, I'm pretty sure not telling her about it would be the act of a true friend."_

_"Spoken like the paragon you are, Shepard." Aethyta parks herself in the chair by my bed and sloshes a generous measure of the drink into my empty water cup. "Good to see you thinking and talking, kid; your long snooze was making a lot of people depressed as hell."_

_"As lie-ins go, this one was well short of my record," I grin back. Something about Liara's father makes it impossible to maintain any kind of gravity in conversation. "And not being dead this time around is a big plus."_

_"There's our toast. Here's to not being dead." Aethyta hands me my cup, and I tap it gently against the bottle before taking a tentative sip._

_It's whisky, a peaty Scottish single malt whose smooth finish hints at a decent age. I'm not much of a connoisseur, but gutrot it definitely ain't. "Damn, that's the good stuff."_

_"Nothing but," Aethyta confirms. "Best bartender this side of the core, remember?"_

_"Yeah, I do." I take another sip of the whisky, rolling it around my tongue appreciatively. "How'd you wind up on Earth?"_

_"After I had that chat with Liara, I decided I wasn't going to waste any more time babysitting her. She was with you, so I figured I could blame you for any funny business."_

_"Thanks."_

_"You're welcome. Besides, Spectres are allowed to get away with almost anything. So I gave Lidanya a call - she's a very old friend - dug out my commando leathers and got to work. We could see the writing was on the wall for Thessia. We did what we could to start getting people out right after Cerberus tried their little takeover bid - nice job shutting those assholes down, by the way."_

_"It felt good." I sip at my whisky reflectively. "We were on Thessia when it fell. It wasn't pretty. Whatever you did to get people out will have saved a lot of lives."_

_"Not near enough," Aethyta grimaces. "Athame's sacred azure, how many times did I tell that stuck-up bunch of princesses we needed heavy military, more reliance on ourselves and our own technology?"_

_"It wouldn't have made a difference," I tell her sadly. "It didn't help the Turians, it didn't help us here. But Thessia died hard. Every commando I met knew they were on the bad end of lousy odds, and they stood up to be counted. I have never seen such individual courage from so many people. You can be proud of your people, Matriarch. Particularly your daughter." I point out of the window; beyond the shattered buildings, at the dead husk of the Reaper jutting towards the horizon. "See that? That's down to Liara."_

_"That's not the story getting told around here," Aethyta reminds me wryly, and I snort in exasperation._

_"Big deal. I was there, I know the truth. Liara found the plans, Liara drove the construction forward, Liara worked herself into the ground to get the data translated, and she did all of that while holding me up and pointing me in the right direction. She never faltered. Sure, I might have pushed the button at the end, but I wouldn't have got near the platform without Li. I'm a glorified gopher; Liara's the brains of the operation, and without her..." Abruptly, the reminder that she might be dead hits me like a runaway train. Grief and panic overwhelm me, burning in my chest, and I drop my cup with a strangled sob._

_"Hey, kid." Aethyta moves the cup and perches beside me, unmindful of the wet patch where the whisky has soaked the sheets. "Easy, Shepard, it's OK." Her arm wraps around my shoulders and she hugs me gently as I suck in a deep breath. "Damn, you used to be able to hold your drink."_

_"Six months in the cooler turns you into a lightweight," I parry weakly, forcing my emotions down as Aethyta laughs, then sits me back against my pillows._

_"You're all right, Shepard, you know that?"_

_"Is that a fatherly blessing?"_

_Aethyta regards me intently. "Given my non-participation in Liara's life thus far, that matters to you?"_

_"Sure. If you were a deadbeat who didn't care, I wouldn't give a fuck, but you're not. You made a hard choice to do what you thought was best for Liara, and you stuck to it, no matter the personal cost. You've got a quad and a half, and you could turn me into a smear on the floor with your mind. So yeah, it matters to me. And more importantly, it matters to Liara."_

_"Well, shit." Aethyta is actually blushing faintly as she meets my gaze. "Don't pull your punches, do you?" She smiles. "For what it's worth, babe, I can see what she sees in you. And it's funny, because she's so like her mother, and you're a lot like me."_

_"You have a nicer ass than I do."_

_"And you have a better rack. Don't interrupt your elders." Aethyta punches me lightly on the shoulder. "If you ever hurt her, I'll turn you into that smear on the floor, are we clear?"_

_"As crystal. I wouldn't have it any other way."_

_"Good. You need a top up?"_

_"Yeah."_

_Aethyta refills my glass with a finger of whisky, and hands it over. "Be more careful with that one, I'm sure this stuff is in short supply." She taps the bottle neck to my cup. "She'll make it back to us, kid. You'll see." She turns to look out of the window, and murmurs, almost to herself, "Fly home, Little Wing."_

_"Amen." I down my drink. "So, do I get to call you Dad now?"_

_"Don't push your luck, babe."_

I look up into Miranda's expectant gaze. "Talking to Aethyta did help. That was a good call, Miri, I owe you one."

Miranda snorts indelicately. "You owe me fuck-all, Shep," she says forcefully. "I've saved you twice, you've saved Ori twice and me once, I figure that still has me one behind. And besides," she flicks at my ear punitively with her finger, "you're the best friend I've ever had, tragic as that is. So helping you out is not only my responsibility, it's my privilege."

"What was that?" I ask with a grin. "I couldn't hear you for the throbbing in my ear."

"Piss off, Shep, I'm not saying it again." Miranda smirks as she glances over at the primary monitor. "Right, time for your next adjustment cycle. You comfortable?"

Liara's asleep in my arms, my ship is home with my crew safe and sound, my Mom is nearby, my closest friends are alive and well, and the Reapers are history. How'd I get this lucky? "Yeah, Miri, I reckon I am."

"Good. I'll see you both tomorrow."

I settle back into my pillows, pressing a kiss to Liara's peaceful cheek, then slide gently into the welcoming dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nearly there now! But I thought you'd all skin me if I left you hanging in here... :o)


	53. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liara

I wake up slowly.

There's a weight to my side, trapping me. A warm, comfortable weight that moves regularly. Opening my eyes, I find myself in a hospital room, perched on the side of a bed. I am wrapped up in Rachel, and she in me.

"Good morning, Liara," a voice murmurs quietly, and I sit up, careful not to disturb Shepard. Dr. Chakwas is standing at the end of the bed, looking over a chart, trying not to laugh.

"Karin. I... morning?"

"Yes. Miranda and I made sure you had a proper rest," Karin observes cheerfully. "Don't worry about waking Shepard, she's sedated; Miranda made an adjustment to her cybernetic programming overnight. We'll bring her round shortly. I imagine you have a lot to talk about."

"Not really," I reply as I stretch. "We melded. Words are inefficient in comparison."

"I can only imagine," Chakwas chuckles. "Well, there's a private washroom just though that door. If you want to freshen up I'll see if we can scrounge up some breakfast for you."

I nod. "That would be wonderful, thank you. Is Miranda still here?"

"No. I sent her to get some rest late last night. She's hardly left Shepard's side, and she's exhausted."

"I'd like to talk to her, thank her properly."

"You'll have plenty of opportunity to do that, Liara," Karin says in an amused voice. "It doesn't all  _have_  to be today. Now go on, get yourself sorted out."

"Yes, ma'am," I agree, getting off the bed. Chakwas smiles at me, and makes a shooing gesture with one hand. I follow my training and obey her direction. Half an hour later I'm awake, refreshed, and finishing the last of my tea at Shepard's bedside. Rachel is still asleep, one arm tucked under the covers, one loose, her hand splayed carelessly at her side. Her hair is short, and she is thinner than she should be, gaunt and pale, but her expression is relaxed, completely at peace for the first time in months. After so much doubt, so much fear, being so sure that I had lost her again, she is alive, she will be well, and she is  _beautiful_. My tears rise again, a blend of release for the sorrow I have wrestled with these past weeks, and sheer relief and joy at the knowledge that it is over.  _It is all over_. The galaxy may not be what it was, but we are both still here, and we can,  _finally_ , be together.

Chakwas injects some stimulant into her IV line and then nods to me. I sit on the bed, laying her arm across my lap, and lean down to kiss her gently. "Rachel?" I whisper. Her eyelids flutter as she stirs, and I kiss her again, revelling in the feel of her soft lips beneath mine. Goddess, I have craved this. I sit back to allow her space, so that she will not be startled, feel trapped by someone leaning over her. I know from prior experience that her battle-honed reflexes do not take kindly to such stimuli. Never startle a Spectre. "Rachel, wake up."

Shepard's green eyes flutter open, and her gaze locks to my face instantly. Confusion weighted down with sleep takes a few moments to clear, but when it does, her smile is heartbreakingly hopeful. "Li-Liara?" she queries groggily. "Is that... you're really... here?"

"I'm really here," I agree happily. "I need you to be brave, Commander. You really are stuck with me for the rest of your life."

She arches her eyebrows at me as she stretches, humour sparkling in her eyes. "Oh, I can be brave. I've got medals to prove it."

"Brave or thickheaded?" Chakwas queries dryly. "I'm never quite sure which side of the line you're on."

Shepard's mouth drops open, and then a delighted grin blooms as she looks past me to the medic. "Doc!"

"Shepard. It's wonderful to see you." Chakwas beams at her. "You had us rather worried this time."

"I worried myself, this time, and that's saying something," Shepard grins. "Get over here and give me a hug, Karin. It's good to see you're OK."

"Never better," Chakwas assures her, but she obeys the order and lets Shepard embrace her for a brief moment. "Miranda's done a marvellous job, I must say. Your physical recovery is almost complete, and there's no permanent damage. Psychologically, well, you have a lot to process, but I'm quite sure that you have the best medicine to hand already." Chakwas nods at me, and Rachel reaches out to squeeze my hand.

"I know," she says simply.

"Good. Now, your mother's come back down to visit this morning, and I think she'd really like to see you."

Shepard looks at me with consternation, and I can't help but giggle. "You're frightened of your mother?"

"No, not at all, but..."

"You haven't told her about us, and now you're not sure how to."

Shepard blinks, surprised. "That's a little creepy, Li."

Chakwas coughs. "It's obvious you two need to discuss this. I'll leave you to it, but remember, I can't stall an Admiral indefinitely."

"Sure you can. I've seen you give Admirals their marching orders before," Shepard grins.

"Yes, but none of those Admirals was  _your_  mother, Shepard." Chakwas winks at me, and steps out.

"It's not so creepy. When we arrived, I could see your mother had no idea what I was doing there. I think at first she thought I was a doctor, then when Chakwas said I should go in and see you she was confused. And then I felt you wake up, and you came out, and... well, I suppose that was when she found out about us?"

Shepard grimaces. "Yeah."

"She took it rather well," I offer comfortingly, "considering the shock it must have been, especially with me not being human. But what I don't understand is why you didn't tell her?"

Shepard sighs. "A lot of stupid screw-ups and irrational decisions all rolled into one big mess. Seems like it might be time for an abject confession. Could you call her in?"

"Do you want me to wait outside?"

"No. There's nothing I'm interested in hiding from you." Rachel reaches out to stroke my cheek, and I press a kiss into her palm.

"You always know just what to say to bend me to your will," I tease as I get to my feet. She gives me an arch look that sets my pulse hammering.

"Careful, Doctor. I might start to get ideas."

"If only you were fit enough to make good on them, Commander," I retort as I cross the room to the door.

Admiral Shepard is chatting to Dr. Chakwas, but her gaze fastens on me as soon as I open the door. "Admiral, would you like to join us, please?"

Shepard's mother nods quickly. "I definitely would," she accepts. I find it hard to decide if there's anger in her tone - she has quite a different accent to Rachel, and I don't know her well enough to read her expressions.

I step back from the door to let her through, and as I make to close it Chakwas gives me a quick thumbs up.

Turning back into the room, I am treated to the sight of a nervous Rachel Shepard. This for me is a first; I have seen her angry, irritated, worried and grieving, but nervous is never a word I have associated with her. "Well, this is a new experience," I comment as I seat myself at the foot of the bed, leaving the chair for the Admiral. "Commander Shepard... nervous."

Rachel pulls a face at me in protest. "I've been nervous plenty of times since we met."

"Well, you used to be able to do a better job of hiding it, then," I counter playfully, unable to help my good mood.

"Maybe that was before you became able to literally read my mind."

"Ah. The rare valid argument."

Shepard grins, clenching her fist in celebration of victory.

"Rachel, honey, stop beating about the bush," Admiral Shepard rebukes her with a hint of impatience, and Rachel's grin slides right off her face.

"Sorry, Mom," she says quietly, contritely. "So. You two haven't met."

Admiral Shepard shakes her head. "No, not that I recall. I know your name; Liara, isn't it?"

I offer my hand politely, human style. "Yes. Liara T'Soni. It's a pleasure to meet you, Admiral."

"Thank you, Liara," Shepard's mother takes my hand, "and please, call me Hannah. If you're in a relationship with Rachel, I don't think we need to stand on ceremony."

"Hannah," I confirm with a smile. "Thank you."

Shepard holds up her hands. "Mom, I haven't been totally up front with you about our relationship. I'm sorry for that, but I hope you'll let me explain."

Hannah nods slowly, though she looks unhappy. "Rachel, we've always had a good relationship, and I understand that every girl has secrets from her mother - God knows I did, up to and including my plan to disinherit myself - but I thought we were close enough that you could tell me anything. " Hannah gestures to me. "Especially something this important. It's obvious that Liara means a great deal to you."

"She does. And we are that close." Shepard's tone is adamant. "That's why I want to set this right, Mom. Please, let me explain?"

"I'm sorry, honey, you're right. Go ahead."

"OK." Shepard takes a deep breath. "We've known each other for about three years, if you count the two I spent dead. Objectively, it's been about a year since we got together, six months of which I spent in lock-up. So now we're down to six months and wow..." She looks at me with a faint grin. "You did this to me in  _six months_? Of which we've only properly spent about three together?"

"You're getting off topic again," I chide her gently.  _You can tell me what you think I've done to you later,_  I add, pushing the thought toward her.

She stiffens in surprise. "And we'll talk about you showing me how to do  _that_  later as well," she says firmly. "Right, so we've been together, as in time spent together, for about three months, and our relationship has largely been based on running about the galaxy fighting Reapers and saving each other's lives. I rescued Li from Saren's geth on Therum, she rescued me from the Collectors and gave my body to Cerberus to rebuild, I rescued her from a rogue Spectre trying to assassinate her, she prevented me from being extradited to Batarian space after Aratoht, the list goes on like that. Somewhere along the way we fell for each other, and it was strong enough to bring us back to one another, carry us through being apart. It's been nothing like any relationship I've ever experienced before." Shepard sighs. "When you're constantly in crisis mode, everything else gets shoved on the back burner, the little details that really do matter, the hard work you have to do to keep in touch with friends and family goes out the window, and you hurt people even though you never intend to. Being busy's not an excuse, and I should have done better, but in mitigation, the lack of contact wasn't always  _entirely_  my fault. Every time I got to a point where I'd made up my mind to call you and tell you, something wholly ridiculous would get in the way." Rachel pulls a frustrated face. "I died. I got lost in the Terminus systems with Cerberus blocking my communications. I got arrested for alleged war crimes and I was under stockade."

Hannah shakes her head with a wry smile. "It's a good thing I had some of these facts at my disposal before and I know how bad a liar you are, because otherwise I'd say you were making this up. It is completely absurd."

"Tell me about it. Welcome to my life. The only reason I believe it is because I have the memories." Rachel sighs softly. "When I was stockaded I didn't know where Li was, or what was happening, so there didn't seem to be much point in telling you about her. And by that time I wanted the chance to tell you face to face. I mean, as ludicrous as this sounds now, can you imagine hearing it over the comm, or written down? You'd have had me committed."

Hannah smiles at this. "And then the war kicked off, and communication was difficult if not impossible. God knows I worried about you, but I kept hearing from Hackett that you were doing fine, doing things I can still hardly credit. Discovering the Crucible, curing the genophage, ending the Geth wars."

"Liara discovered the Crucible," Shepard corrects her mother immediately. "The other things, they were team efforts, as these things always are. One thing I know for sure; I couldn't have done any of it without Liara. Without her love, without having her to fight for, well, the Reapers would have won. We bonded just before the final push in London."

Hannah 's eyebrows lift in surprise. "You got married?"

"No," I clarify quickly, "not in the way human cultures understand the concept. To bond, we exchanged memories, forged a mental connection that links us together. It's how I knew she had woken up yesterday. Rachel said you'd kill her if she were to get married without inviting you."

Hannah nods slowly. "Well, she's right about that." She is silent for a moment, contemplating, and Rachel offers me a reassuring wink, but my anxiety does not ease until her mother looks up and smiles. "That's quite a sea-story, kiddo. There's only one thing I really don't understand though; how come you haven't said a word about this all this week? We've spoken, what, ten or fifteen times? I've been watching your worry for Liara tear you apart, and I couldn't figure out why you wouldn't let me help you." A faint expression of hurt has crept onto Hannah's face. "You didn't think I'd be angry, did you? Or upset that Liara's not human?"

"No!" Rachel's denial is vehement. "No, of course not, Mom, I know you'd never judge like that." She looks down at the covers and mutters, barely audibly, "I didn't want to jinx it."

"I beg your pardon?" Hannah asks incredulously.

"I didn't want to jinx it," Rachel repeats more loudly. "Listen, the only thing in this universe that I wanted," she points at the door, "was for Liara to walk through that door. Every time I went to sleep I wished for it, every time I woke up I wished for it, and every damn minute I was awake I wished for it." A blush has begun to creep across her cheeks. "I didn't want to jinx it."

Hannah stares at her for a moment, then bursts out laughing. "Well, damn if I didn't raise a proper jarhead," she grins, punching Rachel in the arm. "Your grandpa would be so proud of you, superstitious old coot that he was." She shakes her head in amused disbelief, still chuckling. "You dumbass grunt."

"I'm afraid I still don't understand," I admit, bewildered by Hannah's sudden mirth and Rachel's flaming embarrassment.

"It's a human superstition, Liara," Hannah explains with a grin. "When you make a wish, you don't tell anyone what you wished for. If you do, the wish never comes true."

"Oh." I look over at Rachel, who is still blushing. "Well, I'm glad you didn't tell anyone," I offer, taking pity on my poor bondmate, who has suffered enough over the past few months; there is no need to risk her dying of embarrassment at the final hurdle. "I'd have hated for that wish not to come true."

Rachel smiles at me, the slow, deeply affectionate, lopsided grin I know is reserved for me alone. Hannah Shepard looks at me appraisingly, and Rachel struggles to a more upright position on her bed and tugs me closer. "So that's the whole story. Mom, I'd like you to meet Liara T'Soni, my bondmate and the woman I love more than life. I'm sorry that it's taken so long to get you together, but I think the world of her, and she's made me happier than I thought it was possible to be. Li, this is my mom, without whom I wouldn't even be close to the person that you so foolishly seem to have fallen in love with. All my good points are down to her example; all my flaws are mine alone." She's crying now, open and unashamed, free to express herself in front of the two people she is closest to. I feel my own eyes sting as she speaks, overwhelmed by her candid admission of what my love means to her. Scooting closer, I wrap my arm around her and offer my free hand to Hannah.

"I realise it's a little late to ask your blessing, Hannah, but Rachel is centre of my life. I have never met anyone so generous, kind and loving, and I am fortunate beyond belief that she returns my affections. I know how highly she values your opinion, and hope that I can live up to your expectations for a partner for your daughter."

"Well, Liara," Hannah smiles, "if you've made my little girl this happy, you've already surpassed anything I could have wished for. Welcome to the Shepard family, honey."

I push down a pang of pain that I will never have the chance to do this with my own parents; Benezia is long gone, and I lost contact with my father after she vanished from the Citadel. But then Hannah stands and pulls me into a fierce embrace, and reaches out to snag Shepard too, and the pang is lost in the tenderness of this joyous instant. We hug, the three of us, for a long, warm moment, then Shepard breaks the embrace, slapping her forehead. "Blessing! Oh for the love of... I'm such an idiot sometimes." A delighted grin lights her entire face as she taps the intercom by her bed. "Doc, you still out there?"

"Shep, it's Miranda. Karin's gone off duty. Do you need something?"

"Yeah, do me a favour, Miri. Would you call down to the rec room and ask the.. uh,  _refreshments manager_  to come up and see me for a moment. There's something I'd like to show them."

There's a pause, and then Miranda laughs, a low, wicked laugh. "Commander Shepard, you're a bad, bad girl."

"Ain't that why you love me?"

"All right, I'll pass the message on, and I'll be standing by to rebuild you,  _again_ , when it's over."

"Thanks, Miri."

"Aren't you a little over-medicated to be drinking?" Hannah asks suspiciously.

"I won't be the one that needs a drink," Shepard says mysteriously.

"Don't make me meld to find out what you're up to," I warn her.

"You wouldn't," she objects in mock horror.

"I recall you gave me permission to meld whenever I need to," I tease. "Seems like this is information I might need to know."

"Trust me, Liara. Please," Shepard requests with a pleading smile. She is obviously up to something, but I am so pleased to see traces of her criminal energy starting to show through that I am prepared, this once, to let her away with it.

"Oh, fine, but if this is some ridiculous prank..."

Hannah lifts an imperious eyebrow in warning, and Rachel holds up her hands. "No pranks. In fact, this is the only thing I can think of that could make this day any better. And this one time, Li, I  _will_  get to surprise you."

Nonplussed, I shoot an appealing glance at Hannah, but it appears Shepard's mother is none the wiser. The silence drags, and then the door opens. I hear a familiar gravelly voice raised in complaint. "...Athame's tits, she'd better have a good reason for dragging me up here when I have work to do."

I whirl to stare at Shepard, who is watching me intently. My jaw drops in disbelief.  _It can't be_...

"I do have a good reason. Get your ass in here and stop bitching to Miranda," Shepard bawls.

"Shepard, babe, you know I love you, but..." the voice trails to nothing as the speaker walks in and sees me.

Time stops.

I stare at her, disbelieving. She stares at me. And then, the moment unfreezes, and I hurl myself across the room, cannoning hard into a shocked Matriarch Aethyta. "Dad!"

"Liara!" My father's arms lock around my shoulders as she hugs me with crushing force. "I don't fucking believe it," she almost shouts, joy suffusing her tone.

"How in the name of the Goddess did you get here?" I ask, disentangling myself.

"I was helping Lidanya out. When all the Reapers fell down I heard your girlfriend here had managed to not get herself killed in the line, so I figured I'd stake out the honey trap. After all, if you had to choose between me and hot stuff over there, I know where your loyalties would lie." My father draws back to wink at me. "Especially as she's all tied down and helpless."

I blush furiously. Hannah Shepard's eyebrows climb to her hairline in shock, Miranda, loitering by the door, is desperately trying to cover her laughter with a coughing fit, and Shepard is grinning from ear to ear. "Aethyta, you say the sweetest things," she chuckles.

"I'll get both of you for this," I threaten, but my heart isn't in it. My family, such as it is, have survived the war intact. I am luckier than I have any right to be, and I clap my father's shoulder affectionately. "I missed you, Dad. I'm glad you made it through OK."

"Me too, Little Wing, me too." Aethyta throws a sly glance at Hannah. "So, Admiral, got any embarrassing stories about our hero over there?"

Hannah looks uncertain for a moment, then smiles wickedly. "One or two, since you ask, Matriarch. Some really good teenage ones in particular. Why?"

Aethyta grins a matching evil grin to Hannah's. "Payback's a bitch, don't you think?"

"Oh God," Shepard mutters, burying her face in her hands.


	54. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liara and Shepard

The day Shepard is finally released from the medical centre is one that I will look back on as the definition of happiness. Rachel is still not entirely fit, still not entirely healed, but healthy enough to pass Karin's stringent standards for release from therapy, and Miranda's altogether more pedantic fussing over acceptable performance of her implants. (It took Jack threatening to set Eezo loose in the lab to make Miranda capitulate.) She bears Miranda's mother-hen routine with good grace, and laughs until she can't breathe at Jack's contribution to the cause, but the release of tension from her stance as we walk hand in hand from the hospital is almost tangible, like a mild earth tremor, gone before you realise what it was.

Steve Cortez has commandeered a shuttle for us, and is waiting at the emergency transport point. He hugs Shepard fiercely, tears in his eyes. She reciprocates, her own eyes shining, and then Steve's arms are around me, crushing me to his chest. "It's good to see you too, Liara," he almost chokes. "I'm so glad you guys all made it home."

"And I am glad you survived that awful crash," I reply. "It is good to see you safe and well, Steve."

He wipes his eyes and nods. "OK, hop in. I got your message, Shepard, co-ordinates are plugged in. It'll take us about two and a half hours with a quick sub-orb spurt."

"Where are we going?" I ask.

"It's supposed to be a surprise," Shepard replies, looking a little embarrassed.

"Oh. Well then, forget I asked." I step up into the shuttle and offer Shepard my hand.

The trip passes comfortably, Shepard and I chatting idly with Steve to pass the time, filling the pilot in on the well-being of all of our friends. They have all been more or less constant fixtures in Rachel's hospital rooms for the past two weeks, and the boost her recovery from having us all around has been remarkable. I sit with my head against Rachel's shoulder, her arm slung possessively around me, and I revel in the simple joy I receive from just being close, listening to her talk and feeling her breathing. Lulled by my contentment, I nod off, to be awakened by Shepard gently shaking me. "Hey, sleepyhead, we're here."

We thank Steve, collect our bags, and hop off the shuttle at the head of a dirt trail leading off into a forest of tall, dark green trees bearing needles rather than leaves. It's sunny, but there's a slight chill to the clean, crisp air that suggests we're somewhere further poleward, or at higher altitude, than London. Shepard lifts her rucksack onto her shoulders and tightens the straps. "C'mon, Li, we have a little walk ahead of us."

"You're making me very curious," I admit as I pick up my own bag and slip my arms through the straps.

"I know," she replies smugly.

"You realise I could activate Glyph and have GPS co-ordinates and an analysis in seconds?"

"Sure, but you won't."

"Oh, won't I?"

"No." Shepard's tone is earnest. "Because somewhere deep down beneath that ice-queen information broker shell, there's an inquisitive kid who loves surprises and making discoveries." She winks at me. "And closer to the surface is a hopeless romantic who would never dream of spoiling my plans for today, because she can see how much it means to me."

"Well, when you put it like that," I lean in and brush a kiss across her cheek, "I find I can be patient."

We walk for perhaps half an hour at a gentle pace, climbing steadily through the lofty ranks of the forest, shielded from the bright glare of the afternoon sun by the high canopy of branches. We don't talk much, but I make a point of keeping hold of Shepard's hand, maintaining the physical contact I have missed so much since she was torn from me.

Abruptly, the track curls away to the left, dropping down over a steep edge, and as we reach the apex of the turn I gasp in shock. The forest gives way suddenly to a spectacular aquamarine lake ringed by towering, snow-capped mountains. The sun dances on the water, silver sparkles reflecting back into an endlessly clear blue sky. "Goddess," I breathe, almost lost for words. "Shepard, it's..."

"I know," Shepard agrees, her tone similarly awed. "I used to come here on school holidays with my grandparents, when I was too young to be left unsupervised on a ship. It must be ten...twelve years since I was last here to visit, but it's just as beautiful as I remember." She throws me a sly glance. "It was one of the early reasons for blue being my favourite colour."

* * *

 

My quip has the desired effect; Liara laughs, a pure, carefree laugh the like of which I haven't heard in far too long. She steps close and throws her arms around me to bestow a hug and a quick kiss. "This was a lovely surprise, Shepard," she murmurs in my ear. "Thank you for sharing this."

"Oh, I'm just getting started, Doctor," I assure her, squeezing her backside gently before breaking her embrace. "C'mon, it's just down here." I lead my beautiful asari bondmate down the path to a well-appointed timber house on the shore of the lake. "My Granddad was a Park Ranger after he retired from the military," I explain, "and so he got to live on site here. When he died, we got first refusal on purchasing it." Stepping up onto the deck, I walk round to the shore side, where a jetty runs out into the bright jade water. "Mom and Aunt Kate keep it maintained between them - Mom comes here on holiday a lot. She suggested we take advantage."

"Your mother is a wise woman."

I take Liara's hand and we walk around the veranda to the lake-facing balcony, where two chairs wait at a table laden with a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket, and two champagne flutes. God bless Aethyta, Miranda, Karin, and my Mom. Guiding Liara to one of the seats, I carry on with my news. "So, I spent most of yesterday talking to Tevos, Sparatus and Hackett, and we came to an understanding. But I made it clear to them that my acceptance depended on having your blessing."

"What?"

I shrug as I take my own seat across from her with some relief, stretching my tired legs out. "I'm not making any final decisions until you have a chance to hear the options. Ever since we met there's been the mission, the Navy, the Council, the galaxy, the greater good, always something or someone keeping us from deciding what we want our future to be. Our future. Together." I look out over the lake for a moment, then back at my bondmate. "I want that to change. I want us to make decisions for us. So, the offer on the table is this: I'm resigning from the Alliance, effective two weeks from today." Liara's eyes widen, and she opens her mouth as though to speak, and I hold up one hand to forestall her. "I can keep my rank, and I have the option to continue to serve as a Spectre. I would be accountable only to the Council, not to Earth. We worked so hard to bring everyone together, and I think we should to try and keep it that way. But if I'm going to be labelled as Saviour of the Galaxy whether I like it or not, then I'm going to be answerable to the Galaxy, not just to one race." Liara is shocked; she knows how important my naval heritage is to me. "I would get to keep the Normandy, and be given permission to put together a team to work with me, a multispecies crew who will enjoy Spectre privileges. And I have a pretty good idea who my first recruit would be. There's an asari of my acquaintance that I believe would be well-suited to my team." Liara grins at me, and I grin back. "But I will turn them down flat if you don't want that life." I lean forward to take Liara's hands. "You asked me once what would happen if the war ended tomorrow. Well it has, and now we have to decide what tomorrow will be. It doesn't have to be the same as yesterday."

Liara doesn't answer immediately, taking her own turn to gaze thoughtfully out over the lake. "You love being a Spectre," she says after a while, "and you love the Normandy, and you love me."

"For the record, I love you far more than the other two," I clarify.

Liara flashes me a coy smile that racks up my heart rate several notches. "I know," she agrees assuredly. "And I know that if I asked you, you would throw everything else away. But I can't ask that of you. You were born to be a soldier, you are happiest... no, you are the purest form of yourself in command of your ship, on a mission to help those who cannot help themselves. That's who I fell in love with, and while I'm sure I'd love you equally well elsewhere, I want you... us... to be able to live without regret. As long as I can be with you, I don't care where we are or what we're doing. Besides, I see some fascinating possibilities for doing good in allying the Broker network with a Spectre operation, in the specific circumstance of my being the Broker and you being the Spectre." She tilts her head to one side. "There's so much to rebuild, so much to repair, so many people in need of help; I can assist with that best under the auspices of the Council."

"And the fact that it'd make you immune to prosecution in no way sways your view, right?" I grin, and Liara dips her head, looking at me with that faint, confident smirk that never fails to set my blood boiling. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Look at me like that. You know what that does to my blood pressure, and I'm still technically on sick leave. You could put me back in hospital." Liara grins, raising her hands in fake surrender.

"You have me. You were right all along. It's not you I love, it's the perks." She gets up from her seat and moves to lean against the balcony, looking out over the water. I lever myself carefully out of my own chair and hobble across to lean beside her, the short stop after the walk having caused my legs to stiffen up already.

"Glad we clarified that," I murmur as she lays her head against my shoulder. "So is that a yes?"

"Is it what you want to do, Rachel?"

"Yes. It is. You're right - it's who I am."

"Then that's a yes," Liara agrees. "The Normandy's our home, and I'm not ready to move on just yet."

* * *

 

Shepard's smile lights up at my agreement, and I feel the warm pulse of her happiness through our bond. "Excellent," she sighs. "I'll let Tevos know tomorrow. But before I do anything else, I am taking a holiday. A long, boring holiday with nothing to do, hundreds of miles from the Council, the Spectres, the Alliance, and everything else. Everything... except you." She drops a kiss on my crests and moves back to the table, removing the bottle of champagne from the ice bucket. Popping the cork with a flourish, she pours the sparkling wine into two glasses. We drink, then she opens her backpack, rummaging around in the numerous pockets. She lets out a small, triumphant exclamation as she fishes out a small square box. "Ha! Found it." Turning to me, I'm surprised to see her hands are shaking, and her cheeks are flushed red. "I really never thought I'd be the one doing this," she mutters, then she takes a deep breath.

"Rachel, are you all right?" I ask, concerned by her odd nervousness.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Li. This is maybe a little late and all, what with us already being bonded..." she winks at me to reassure me of my forgiveness, "but God knows you deserve a grand romantic gesture if anyone does. OK, it's a human grand romantic gesture, but I didn't get a chance to research, and your Dad... no, I couldn't ask your Dad..."

"Shepard, what are you talking about?" I interrupt, nonplussed by her nervous rambling. To my surprise, she lowers herself to one knee, grimacing at the pain it causes her still-recovering body. "What are you doing?"

"I'm fine, Li, don't fret," she soothes. She looks down at the floor, shakes her head with a wry grin, then looks up and takes my hand. "Liara T'Soni, you're the centre of my life. I can't imagine living the rest of my days without you. I made you a promise that I'd always come back; now, I'd like us to share another promise. A commitment to stay with each other for as long as the universe will allow. Liara, I love you. Will you marry me?"

Tears sting my eyes as I look down at Shepard's earnest, nervous face. She proffers the box, which contains a simple ring of a curious iridescent metal set with a single diamond. "Yes, of course I will," I reply, dropping to my knees in front of her. "I love you. Whatever time we are granted, I want every second of it."

Shepard's smile would shame the sun as she pulls the ring from the box and slides it onto the fourth finger of my left hand. I roll my hand from side to side slowly, entranced by the way the stone catches the light. "It's beautiful," I whisper.

"EDI gave it to me," Rachel says softly, sadly. "They were selling them on the Citadel just before the final battle. Victory rings, they called them. The band's an alloy of different metals from the council homeworlds. This one's predominantly asari and human, so EDI bought it for me on her infamous shopping spree. It seems an appropriate symbol, on a personal level."

"I think she'd be pleased," I agree, "but do I recall correctly that if we are to be married, we require two rings?"

"Yeah, that's right," Shepard confirms. "Only one for an engagement, though, which is a little one sided."

"Well, in keeping with our being bondmates, could we add some extra metals to make two rings from this one? Two parts of the same whole?"

Rachel nods, her smile reigniting. "Li, that's a fabulous idea. Some from Earth, some from Thessia?"

"No. Just from Earth, so we'll always remember this." Leaning in, I kiss Shepard passionately. "I love you, Rachel Shepard."

"I love you too, Liara T'Soni."

I get to my feet, but Shepard stays where she is, a frustrated grimace etching slowly into her brow. "Are you OK, Rachel?"

"Cramp," she admits with a sheepish grin. "I can't get up." She rolls to a sitting position and I drop back to one knee, massaging her thighs to ease the tension and get the blood flow going. "Damn, I hate being this unfit," she grumbles.

"It'll pass," I assure her, helping her to stand. "You'll be charging down Reapers... no, wait, Rogue Spectres... no, wait, Cerberus... no..." I grin at her. "There are no more bad guys."

"For now," Rachel sighs mock-morosely as she shoots me a sly sidelong glance, a grin quirking the corner of her mouth. "You know... I'm going to be  _monumentally_  bored."

I grin, then jerk her feet out from under her, swinging her up into my arms and carrying her toward the house. "No, Commander Shepard," I disagree confidently, "you're not."

**THE END...?**

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, gee, what a blast I had doing this. Thanks so much to everyone who has read, favorited and followed over the past couple months - I hope you've enjoyed the ride, your support has meant so much. To all of you who left reviews and kudos, my heartfelt gratitude. I do have more to publish, so stay tuned, but meantime, if you've enjoyed this story, please check out my author homepage <https://wyles77writes.wordpress.com/> for links to my original works - there are loads of free samples, and even a free book!  
> Til' next time!


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